Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/fromcoasttocoastOOIivirich 


Mur^e^ 


n 


\J57D'T?KI 


''tm  ^i^^^mm> 


r>9^ 


WHO  TRAVELED 


MILES  FOR  $Z§J 


tfatk  London 
Gien  Slim 
Sonoma  Co^  CaL  Jkovac?  1S»  1917 

jaelc  •osaaB«s  RrtMay 

Uy  Dear  Ur.A.So.l: 

Tou  must  forgXv*  ay  long  delay  in  acknovledgiag  yotir  vary  klD&  letter 

to  oe  in  sty  dark  noux. 


cr  .»«»  worlc  is  t.o  finest  tUng  in  the  «orld. 
■ith  all  good  wishes  for  the  Re«  ?ear» 


SlDCCxely  yours. 


^^)  rui-q^ 


1,    18XT 


GlaEMai 
Sawaa  Co..  Ccd. 
0.5.  A. 
Oaar  A.Vo.l: 

X  can't  eeea  to  say  ^'fieax  Ibr.  Liviagston."    And,  as  your  wife  is 
UDdonbtedly  proud. of  your  re&arkable  career,   she  won't  mi&dt 

Really,     X  an  quite  ashaaed  of  myself  for  not  aoknowledging  your 
set  of  books.     Tou  see,  a  great  mass  of  packages  and  thlnga  had  piled  vp, 
and  I  have  heea  unable  to  cope  vitb  the  accunulatlon .  When  I  DID  get  at 
sorting  out,   I  found  your  set.     X  aa  delighted  to  have  thea  and  hope  to 
get  at  the  reading  of  them  before  long.    Ton  have  no  idea  how  busy  1  an. 

Tour  title  page  looke  good.     X  £ave  Inserted  something  that  seeme 
good  to  me. 

X  should  like  to  write  more  at  length;  hut  I  am  Just  h&ok  froa  a 
•eek's  abeence,  and  th«  vork  has  piled  Up  again. 

Send  me  a  o^y  of  yout  hook  NUaber  Sight  as  soon  as  it  is  ready. 

Wth  very  beat  wishes  to  you  and  yours. 
Sincerely, 


QJl 


■~.K>\fui 


v<:  UiiA^u^^ 


FROM 

COAST  TO  COAST 

WITH 

JACK  LONDON 

—BY— 
THE  FAMOUS  TRAMP       ^.^  , 


WRITTEN  BY  HIMSELF  FROM  PERSONAL 
EXPERIENCES 


SEVENTH  EDITION 


PRICE,  25  CENTS 


COPYRIGHT  1917 
BY 

THE  A-No.  1  PUBI^ISHING  COMPANY 

AH  subject  matter,  as  well  as  all  illustrations,  and  especially  the  title  of 

this  book,  are  fully  protected  by  copyrights,   and  their  use  in  any 

form  \rhatsoevQr  will  be  vigorously  prosecuted  for  infringement. 


THE 

(trade  mark) 

PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

ERIE,    PENN'A, 
U.  S.  A. 


"yri^ 


mtenmmmmmmmm 


! 


To  Restless  Young  Men  and  Boys 

Who  Read  this  Book,  the  Author,  who  Has 
Led  for  Over  a  Quarter  of  a  Century  the 
Pitiful  and  Dangerous  Life  of  a  Tramp, 
gives  this  Well-Meant  Advice: 

DO   NOT 

Jump  on  Moving  Trains  or  Street  Cars,  even  if 
only  to  ride  to  the  next  street  crossing,  be- 
cause this  might  arouse  the  "Wanderlust," 
besides   endangering   needlessly 
your  life  and  limbs. 


Wandering,  once  it  becomes  a  habit,  is  almost 
incurable,  so  NEVER  RUN  AWAY,  but  STAY 
AT  HOME,  as  a  roving  lad  usually  ends  in  becom- 
ing a  confirmed  tramp. 

There  is  a  dark  side  to  a  tramp's  life:  for 
every  mile  stolen  on  trains,  there  is  one  escape 
from  a  horrible  death;  for  each  mile  of  beautiful 
scenery  and  food  in  plenty,  there  are  many  weary 
miles  of  hard  walking  with  no  food  or  even  water 
through  mountain  gorges  and  over  parched  des- 
erts; for  each  warm  summer  night,  there  are  ten 
bitter-cold,  long  winter  nights;  for  every  kindness, 
there  are  a  score  of  unfriendly  acts. 

A  tramp  is  constantly  hounded  by  the  minions 
of  the  law;  is  shunned  by  all  humanity,  and  never 
knows  the  meaning  of  home  and  friends. 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  "Road"  is  a  pitiful  exist- 
ence all  the  way  through,  and  what  is  the  end? 

It  is  an  even  ninety-nine  chances  out  of  a 
hundred  that  the  finish  will  be  a  miserable  one  —  an 
accident,  an  alms-house,  but  surely  an  un-marked 
pauper's  grave. 


3  ^  4  i  5 
croB:  Uhaof 


To 

JACK  LONDON 
Of  all  good  fellows  I've  met,  the  best  one, 

and 

MRS.   JACK   LONDON, 

His  greatest  pal 

and 

Author 

of 

"THE   LOG  OF  THE  SNARK" 

The  book  everybody  should  read. 


Contents 


OUR  ADVENTURES:  Page 

FIRST—  The  Meeting  of  the  Ways 7 

SECOND—  The  Smoky  Trail 18 

THIRD—  In  the  Thick  of  the  Hobo  Game.  28 

FOURTH— Hyenas  in  Human  Form 31 

FIFTH  —  The  Hoboes'  Pendulum  of  Death  37 

SIXTH  — The  Killing  of  the  Goose 46 

SEVENTH—  Shadows  of  the  Road 50 

EIGHTH  —  Old  Strikes  &  Company 55 

NINTH— Deadheading  the  Deadhead 66 

TENTH—  Sons  of  the  Abyss 17 

ELEVENTH  —  The  Rule  of  Might 84 

TWELFTH— Prowlers   of  the   Night 89 

THIRTEENTH— Bad  Bill  of  Boone 94 

FOURTEENTH— Old  Jeff  Carr  of  Cheyenne ....  107 
FIFTEENTH  — Sidetracked  in theLandiof  Manual  17 
SIXTEENTH— The  Parting  of  the  Ways.. 126 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

OUR    FIRST    ADVENTURE 

"The  Meeting  of  the  Ways/* 


(4¥NFAM0US  is  your  assertion  that  in  New  York 
I  City  should  be  abroad  even  one  resident  so 
*  grossly  uninformed  of  the  miserable  existence 
led  by  the  roving  tramps  as  to  voluntarily  offer  him- 
self as  a  travel  mate  to  a  professional  hobo,  A.  No.  1 1'* 
Editor  Godwin  of  the  Sunday  World  Magazine  pro- 
tested, having  overheard  a  corresponding  comment  I 
had  broached  to  a  reporter  who  was  recording  the 
points  of  an  interview. 

On  arriving  in  New  York  City  I  had  drifted  to 
the  editorial  rooms  of  the  newspaper  publishing  the 
best  feature  section  in  connection  with  its  Sunday 
issue.  The  World  had  accepted  my  proffer  to  fur- 
nish an  exclusive  interview.  A  pencil  pusher  was 
assigned  to  take  notes  of  my  story  which  he  was  or- 
dered to  transcribe  into  a  human-interest  article  for 
the  magazine  section. 

Most  entertaining  was  the  tale  of  hobo  life  which 
I  had  to  unfold.  It  reviewed  an  existence  fairly 
brimming  with  adventures  and  experiences  the  like 
of  which  were  never  encountered  by  folks  who  trailed 
in  the  well-beaten  ruts  of  legitimate  endeavor.  Of 
paramount  importance  was  the  circumstance  that  se- 
curely pasted  in  a  memorandum  I  carried  on  my  trav- 
els documentory  evidence  which  verified  the  fact  that 
my  statements  were  based  on  actuality. 


8  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

To  this  day  when  the  possession  of  a  most  happy 
home  seems  to  have  effectually  quenched  the  spirit 
of  unrest  which  heretofore  had  driven  me  for  more 
than  thirty  years  over  the  face  of  the  globe,  I  still 
treasure  the  humble  note  book  as  my  most  cherished 
belonging — the  only  relic  remaining  to  remind  me  of 
the  days  I  wantonly  wasted  on  the  Road. 

Among  no  end  of  other  most  worthy  services  per- 
formed by  the  memorandum,  many  an  envious  "knock- 
er" had  his  blatant  mouth  shut  up  in  short  order  by 
a  perusal  of  its  pages.  It  contained  records  which 
irrefutably  proved  that  I,  who  was  a  homeless  out- 
cast, had  gloriously  made  good  where  all  my  fellows 
had  failed  to  gain  even  a  fleeting  remembrance  by 
posterity.  There  were  recommendations  galore  do- 
nated by  grateful  railroad  companies  and  others  by 
individual  railroaders  for  saving  —  ofttimes  at  the  risk 
of  serious  personal  injury  —  trains  from  wreck  and  dis- 
aster by  giving  timely  warning  of  faulty  condition  of  car 
or  track  equipment.  And  letters  penned  by  appreciative 
parents  of  youths,  and  others  by  some  of  the  waywards 
themselves  whom  by  the  thousands  I  had  induced  to 
forsake  an  unnatural  existence  which  was  the  straight 
path  to  mental,  moral  and  physical  perdition.  And 
newspaper  clippings  by  the  score  which  mentioned 
deeds  worth  while  I  had  performed  —  in  many  instances 
years  prior  to  the  time  publicity  was  accorded  them. 
And  autographic  commendations  by  a  long  line  of 
national  notables,  such  as  Burbank,  Edison,  Admiral 
Dewey,  three  of  the  presidents  of  the  United  States, 
a  governor  general  of  Canada  and  others  too  many 
to  enumerate  in  limited  space. 

By  reason  of  this  record  and  the  fact  that  I  was 
a  total  abstainer  —  which  was  a  case  of  utmost  rarity 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  lack  London.  9 

with  the  hoboes  —  I  was  regarded  by  newspaperdom 
as  an  authority  concerning  everything  pertaining  to 
the  Road  and  the  tramp  problem  in  general.  There- 
fore my  loud-spoken  remark  to  the  reporter  that  there 
were  abroad  in  every  community  folks  who  would 
blindly  accompany  a  hobo,  elicited  the  retort  by  Editor 
Godwin  which  was  chronicled  at  the  opening  of  this 
chapter. 

"How  will  you  prove  your  contention,  A.  No.  1?" 
Mr.  Godwin  inquired  when  I  had  reiterated  my  asser- 
tion. 

"Allow  me  sufficient  space  in'  the  'Help  Wanted* 
columns  of  your  daily  for  the  insertion  of  an  announce- 
ment asking  a  traveling  companion  for  a  hobo,  sir!" 
I  returned,  assured  that  my  demand  would  be  refused 
point  blank. 

Contrary  to  my  expectation,  Editor  Godwin  con- 
sidered my  suggestion.  Making  use  of  his  desk  tele- 
phone, he  held  a  consultation  with  the  management 
of  the  newspaper's  advertising  bureau.  The  conference 
resulted  in  the  granting  of  my  request. 

In  the  morning  issue  of  the  World  this  advertise- 
ment made  its  appearance: 

WANTED — TRAVEL  MATE  by  hobo  con- 
templating roughing  trip  to  Oalifomia. 
Address:  Quick-Getaway,  Letter  Box, 
N.  Y.  World. 

The  afternoon  mails  brought  a  veritable  avalanche 
of  responses.  Other  dozens  of  letters  were  delivered 
by  special  messengers.  Several  telegrams  arrived,  some 
of  which  had  prepaid  replies.  All  had  come  from  cor- 
respondents who  had  most  greedily  snapped  up  the 
tempting  bait  of  the  phoney  advertisement. 


10  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

The  messages  originated  from  all  walks  of  life 
and  were  of  every  kind  of  offer  and  demand.  Inquisi- 
tive inquiries  predominated,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Again,  many  of  the  answers  were  dictated  in  a  jocular 
or  sarcastic  vein.  Some  of  the  replies  were  of  such  a 
memorable  character  that  I  recall  them  to  this  late 
day. 

One  came  from  a  patriarch  who  stated,  that, 
though  he  had  six  married  sons,  he  had  all  his  days 
nursed  a  strange  fascination  for  the  outdoor  life,  that 
to  satisfy  this  great  craving  of  his  he  would  gladly 
consider  an  acceptance  of  the  position.  Wishing  to 
convey  a  literal  estimate  of  his  personal  prowess,  he 
frankly  wrote:  "Although  I  am  right  smart  up  in 
years,  I  still  am  as  spry  as  a  bad  wildcat!" 

Another  letter  of  this  class  was  forwarded  by  a 
brokenhearted  mother.  The  unfortunate  lady  pleaded 
that  her  son,  a  reprobate,  be  taken  away  from  the  city 
as  an  only  means  of  saving  his  unfortunate  family 
further  shame,  if  not  disgrace  far  worse. 

"Haven't  I  correctly  judged  the  degree  of  ignor- 
ance manifested  by  the  average  citizen  when  it  comes 
to  a  lucid  idea  of  what  the  Road  really  is,  Mr.  Editor!" 
I  cried  triumphantly,  when  on  wearying  of  opening 
the  letters,  which  still  came  pouring  in,  we  consigned 
the  remainder  of  them  to  a  waste  paper  basket. 

"The  material  you  have  provided  we  shall  work 
up  into  a  story  that  will  be  warning  long  to  be  re- 
membered by  every  soul  who  answered  the  advertise- 
ment, A.  No.  1 !"  Mr.  Godwin  declared,  at  the  time  I 
took  a  final  leave  of  him  and  his  editorial  staff. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London*  11 

IN  the  morning,  and  ere  I  quit  the  city  for  another 
destination,  I  called  at  the  letter  box  to  pick  up 
mail  which  might  have  arrived  during  the  preceding 
night.  While  I  scanned  the  contents  of  letters  handed 
me  by  the  clerk  in  charge  of  the  mailing  division,  I 
was  tapped  lightly  on  the  shoulder  by  some  one  who 
desired  to  attract  my  attention. 

"Pardon  my  interrupting  you,  sir!*'  a  stranger  said, 
excusing  himself.  "But  as  I  noted  by  the  address  of 
your  correspondence  that  you  were  the  Mr.  Quick- 
Getaway  who  has  advertised  for  a  traveling  companion, 
I  dared|to  accost  you  to  request  a  personal  interview." 

The  speaker  was  a  youth  of  perhaps  eighteen  years. 
His  five  foot  seven  of  stature,  though  of  rather  slim 
proportions,  displayed  every  indication  of  holding  no 
end  of  latent  animal  energy.  A  mass  of  rich  brown  hair 
tumbled  well  down  on  his  forehead,  shading  a  pair  of 
gray  eyes  which  gazed  at  you,  keen  and  penetrating. 
At  the  moment  they  were  a-smile  —  this  no  doubt  due 
to  the  immense  satisfaction  it  brought  their  owner  to 
know  he  had  stolen  a  march  on  his  competitors  for  the 
hobo  job  which  was  so  greatly  coveted. 

This  was  his  wearing  apparel.  A  traveling  cap 
which  he  wore  jauntily  tilted  to  the  side  of  his  head, 
and  a  navy-blue  flannel  shirt  with  collar  attached.  He 
had  no  vest.  His  coat  and  trousers  were  much  _  the 
worse  for  rough  usage.  A  pair  of  brogans  of  a  medium 
weight  completed  the  outfit. 

Courteously  lifting  his  cap,  the  chap  went  on: 
"When  are  you  to  depart  from  the  city,  sir?*' 

"Is  that  any  of  your  concern,"  I  sharply  let  him 
know,  taken  aback  by  the  fellow  who  had  caught  me 
off  my  guard,  also  believing  that  my  intentions  were 
none  of  his  business. 


12  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

"As  I,  too,  am  ready  to  shake  this  burg  for  Cali- 
fornia, I  am  willing  to  stake  you  to  my  company!" 
he  continued  unawed  by  the  reproof,  faithfully  acting 
the  role  of  the  dog  who  adopted  his  master. 

"And  who,  then,  are  you;"  I  flared,  aroused  by  his 
impertinence. 

"I'm  out  looking  for  a  comrade  with  whom  to 
hobo-cruise  around  the  globe,  friend !"  he  replied,  reveal- 
ing his  plan. 

"Then  you're  on  the  wrong  tack  for  I  am  no  sailor!" 
I  informed  the  persistent  fellow,  temporizing  with  him 
for  the  sake  of  not  drawing  public  notice  to  our  un- 
friendly  conversation. 

"That's  why  I  believed  it  to  be  most  desirable  that 
we  travel  in  comradeship  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  pal,"  he 
came  back  undismayed.  "There  I  belong  in  Oakland, 
across  the  bay  from  the  city  of  San  Francisco,  where 
I  want  to  stop  a  while  to  visit  with  my  folks  prior  to 
continuing  my  jaunt  by  sea." 

I  was  at  the  point  of  treating  the  stranger  to  a 
tart  rebuff,  when  that  wagging  tongue  of  his  resumed: 
"You'll  find  me  to  be  reliable  and  strictly  on  the  square. 
Should  I  turn  out  disappointing,  ditch  me  en  route 
anywhere  you  prefer.  And,  should  we  get  along  to- 
gether, what's  the  matter  with  doubling  up  for  the 
rest  of  the  trip  I  have  in  view.  I've  been  a  sailor 
and  know  how  to  make  things  pull  easiest  aboard 
ships.  It  always  was  my  pet  project  to  make  a  journey 
around  the  whole  of  Mother  Earth.  As  I'm  determin- 
ed right  now  to  make  a  start-off  on  such  a  rove, 
wouldn't  you  like  to  come  along?" 

Thus  the  youth  prattled  on.  Running  counter  to 
the  great  dislike  I  had  fostered  against  his  person  and 
personality,  ere  I  was  aware  of  this  change,  I  had  ac- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 


m 


Jack  London  proposed  a  hobo  partnership. 


14  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

quired  a  deep  interest  in  the  speaker  because  of  his 
odd  proposition.  Too,  there  was  an  honest  sound 
closely  bordering  on  outright  bluntness  ringing  through 
his  appeal.  All  this  combined  to  send  my  thoughts 
running  riot. 

All  my  days  I  had  yearned  to  see  the  world  by 
way  of  a  circling  trip.  Only  too  well  I  recalled  char- 
acteristic incidents  of  my  school  days.  Then  countless 
times  I  was  reproved  by  the  teachers  for  sitting  with 
eyelids  held  widely  open  but  with  eyes  entirely  obliv- 
ious to  surroundings.  For  I  was  allowing  daylight 
dreams  to  drag  me  away  to  far-off  shores  and  on  and 
ever  onward  seeking  hair-raising  adventures  among 
strange  peoples  —  until  the  harsh  words  of  my  enraged 
preceptors  rudely  tore  me  from  the  willful  neglect  of 
my  lessons.  (No  wonder  then,  that  I  did  not  shine  at 
school !  At  thirty-eight  sheer  necessity  compelled  my 
commencing  the  study  of  books  of  primary  education.) 

While  these  lively  thought-bees  busily  buzzed 
through  my  mind,  thus  arousing  to  a  more  furious  flare 
the  wanderlust  which  already  held  me  enthralled,  I 
hearkened  to  the.  invitation  of  my  tempter.  By  the 
time  he  had  concluded,  I  was  on  edge  to  have  a  further 
investigation  of  his  prospects.  I  proposed  that  we 
adjourn  from  the  crowded  business  lobby  of  the  World 
to  a  bench  I  chanced  to  espy  as  standing  vacant  in  the 
nearby  City  Hall  Park— -a  bit  of  breathing  space  in  the 
heart  of  a  group  of  towering  skyscrapers. 

"And  what  might  be  your  name,  sir?"  I  asked  the 
youth  when  we  had  occupied  the  bench. 

"It's  Jack  London,  sir!"  he  simply  stated,  then 
an  ugly  scowl  came  on  his  countenance  for  I  had  broken 
into  a  merry  laugh  while  I  explained  that  I  had  asked 
to  hear  his  correct  family  nAme  and  not  his  moniker.* 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  15 

"That's  what  it  is!  Exactly  as  you  see  it  spelled 
out  in  the  address  of  the  envelope  of  this  letter  I  re- 
ceived a  couple  days  ago  here  at  the  General  Delivery!" 
he  remonstrated,  as  if  he  regarded  my  comment  as  a 
personal  affront. 

"I  understand!  You  purposely  transposed  your 
road-name  to  have  lawful  passage  in  the  government 
mails  accorded  to  your  correspondence,  sir!"  I  replied 
when  I  had  read  the  address  of  the  letter.  Then  quite 
assured  that  I  had  struck  the  key  of  the  riddle,  I  con- 
tinued, "After  all,  your  moniker  is  'London  Jack,' 
meaning  that  you  are  a  tramp  whose  call  name  is 
'Jack'  and  who  originally  hailed  from  Old  London 
Town  or  other  community  which  adopted  this  name 
as  its  own." 

"I  was  tramp-named  'Cigaret'  and  'Sailor  Jack'  by 
fellows  with  whom  I've  roughed  it  on  land  and  water, 
but  'London'  is  my  correct  family  name !"  he  insisted. 

"Whichever  moniker  you  prefer,  'Jack  London,' 
'London  Jack'  or  any  other  which  strikes  your 
fancy,  what  are  your  plans?"  I  impatiently  quizzed,, 
aiming  to  get  a  straight  conversation  under  headway. 

"Today  I  am  going  to  leave  overland.  This  will 
be  the  first  stretch  of  a  journey  comprising  a  mileage 
of  no  less  than  twenty-five  thousand!"  he  briefly  an- 
nounced. 

Seeking  information  on  a  very  important  matter, 
I  asked:     "And  how  are  you  fixed  financially?" 

'This  forenoon  I  spent  my  last  cent  on  a  postal 
card  to  advise  my  folks  that  I  am  about  to  pay  them 
a  brief  call,"  he  admitted. 

"Then  we  are  both  in  the  sam«  unfortunate  fix, 
my  boy!"   I   groaned   commiseratingly. 


16  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

"Yet  you  had  the  nerve  to  insert  that  tantalizing 
offer  I"  he  came  back  in  sharp  reprimand. 

This  retort  caused  me  to  account  for  the  events 
which  preceded  the  insertion  of  the  advertisement.  I 
explained  how  for  my  meals  I  had  stood  off  Editor 
Godwin.  That  at-  night  I  had  flopped  a-top  a  battery 
of  boilers  connected  with  a  power  plant  which  was 
placed  in  the  lowest  of  the  basements  which  in  the 
World  Building  extended  three-deep  below  the  street 
level  of  the  metropolis. 

Mutual  confessions  were  in  order.  From  one  stage 
of  quick  acquaintance  we  drifted  to  another.  He  feel- 
ingly spoke  of  his  past.  He  mentioned  incidents  which 
had  occurred  in  the  days  of  his  childhood  when  he 
was  a  member  of  the  family  of  a  poor  ranchman.  He 
told  something  of  his  experiences  as  newsboy,  factory 
hand,  cannery  laborer,  oyster  pirate  and  of  his  connec- 
tion with  the  fish  patrol  which  policed  the  waters  of 
the  Bay  of  San  Francisco  and  the  estuaries  of  the 
Sacramento  and  the  San  Joaquin  Rivers.  He  bitterly 
complained  that  so  relentlessly  had  he  been  driven  to 
his  tasks  by  his  workmasters,  that,  step  by  step,  his 
belief  in  receiving  a  fair-deal  by  his  fellow-men  was 
undermined.  Then  he  had  abandoned  himself  to  the 
Road  —  the  abyss,  figuratively,  which  among  other 
human  scum,  engulfed  the  derelicts  produced  by  our 
intense  civilization. 

"There  seems  to  be  nothing  to  prevent  our  be- 
coming hobo  comrades  and,  I  hope  soon,  the  be^t  of 
chums,  fellow !"  he  said,  reiterating  his  original  plea  when 
he  had  concluded  the  review  of  his  personal  history. 

"But  I  am  bound  for  Boston  and  the  scenic  section 
lying  to  the  north  of  that  city!"  I  informed  him,  stat- 
ing the  route  I  intended  roving. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


17 


"It's  a  most  simple  matter  for  a  tramp  to  change 
his  travel  plans  to  suit  the  occasion!"  he  quickly 
countered.  "By  doubling  up  with  me,  you  too,  maybe, 
will  make  my  globe-trot!" 

Thus  irresistibly  ran  the  line  of  his  argument.  He 
decisively  checkmated  every  objection  I  dared  to  ad- 
vance. In  no  time  I  found  myself  outgeneraled  on 
every  point  I  tried  to  score  against  a  partnership. 
Finally,  he  who  was  my  junior  by  four  years  compelled 
my  consenting  to  become  "his"  travel  mate  for  the 
term  of  the  circle  trip  of  the  globe,  which  he  was  con- 
templating. 

The  dry  advertisement  which  in  a  spirit  of  rank 
bravado  I  had  caused  to  be  inserted  in  the  newspaper 
had  come  home  to  roost  in  the  shape  of  a  boomerang. 
I,  who  had  derisively  snickered  while  perusing  the  cor- 
respondence of  more  than  five  hundred  fools  who  had 
yearned  to  become  a  companion  to  a  hobo,  had  myself 
fallen  an  easy  prey  to  the  self-same  lure.  A  hobo 
comradeship  resulted  which  culminated  in  a  friendship 
which  firmly  endured  until  the  death  of  Jack  London. 

*  Spoken:    mo'nee'ker  —  th9  nickname   every   hobo   asBumed. 


18  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

OUR  SECOND  ADVENTURE 

"The   Smoky  Trail" 


HAVING  arrived  at  an  understanding  on  the  mat- 
ter of  partnership,  we  allowed  our  conversation 
to  become  a  conference,  the  object  of  which  was 
the  selection  of  a  railroad  route  whereby  to  reach  the 
Pacific  Slope. 

In  eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-four  there  were 
nine  distinct  railway  systems  running  westward  from 
New  York  City.  To  the  uninitiated  these  railroads 
looked  as  much  alike  as  an  equal  number  of  beans  in 
a  pod  —  to  cite  a  familiar  comparison.  But  to  the 
professional  hobo  there  were  no  end  of  fine  distinctions 
to  be  discerned  which  had  carefully  to  be  considered 
before  he  decided  on  the  line  over  which  he  "hit  the 
Smoky  Trail." 

Some  of  the  nine  railroads,  while  maintaining  a 
faultless  passenger  service,  had  woefully  neglected  or 
"red  taped"  their  freight  traffic.  One  of  the  larger 
of  the  systems  actually  penalized  engineers  who 
dragged  freight  trains  over  its  splendid  trackage 
at  a  greater  rate  than  ten  miles  an  hour.  Another  of 
the  railroads  had  deliberately  permitted  that  portion  of 
its  business  which  was  transported  in  "varnished"  cars 
to  deteriorate  to  such  a  degree  of  slovenliness,  that 
this  service  became  the  butt  of  common  ridicule.  On 
the  other  hand,  this  rail  line  maintained  a  cargo  ser- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  19 

vice  which  was  so  expeditious  that  shippers  most 
liberally  patronized  this,  its  only  modernized  depart- 
ment. Then  there  were  roads  which  though  otherwise 
considered  as  "free  and  easy"  by  the  wanderlusting 
fraternity,  served  communities  —  sometimes  lone  water 
tank  stops  —  where  officers  of  the  peace  raised  havoc 
with  the  "liberties"  of  the  tramps.  Again,  there  were 
the  "hunger  lanes,"  thus  nicknamed  by  the  Wandering 
Willies  because  they  passed  through  territory  the  pop- 
ulace of  which  either  was  "strictly  hostile"  or  refused 
to  "produce"  in  response  to  further  "battering"  for 
alms. 

But  of  an  almost  invaluable  importance  to  the 
devotee  of  vagabondage  was  the  exact  knowledge  of 
the  location  of  the  lairs  of  the  railroad  "bulls."  At 
that  time  (1894)  the  railroad  officers  had  just  com- 
menced to  transform  the  idyllic  existence  of  John 
Tramp  into  an  interminable  living  nightmare  which 
was  filled  to  overflowing  with  drubbings,  clubbings, 
long  terms  in  workhouses  and,  worst  penalty  of  all, 
self-supporting  prison  farms,  the  "key"  of  which  was 
thrown  away  until  the  time  the  hobo  had  absolutely 
reformed. 

(I  first  hit  the  Smoky  Trail  in  1883.  Then  the 
railroads  comprised  190,000  miles  of  trackage  and  25 
just  about  covered  the  number  of  effective  detectives 
employed  by  the  transportation  companies.  By  1894 
the  membership  of  the  railroad-salaried  sleuths  had 
mounted  to  275.  At  present  (1917)  7,410  special  offi- 
cers are  required  to  police  a  mileage  of  257,570.  These 
statistics  not  only  prove  the  phenomenal  increase  in 
the  criminality  of  the  hoboes  but  also  the  lack  of 
common   sense   in   human   beings   who   will   cheerfully 


20  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

stake  their  life  and  liberty  against  odds  so  utterly 
hopeless.) 

For  some  time  prior  to  our  meeting,  Jack  London 
had  lived  the  life  of  the  Road.  He  had  negotiated  one 
complete  transcontinental  round  trip.  At  this  moment 
he  was  about  to  start  on  the  return  journey  of  a 
second  hobo  jaunt.  But  neither  his  scope  of  railroad 
knowledge  nor  the  vast  practical  and  otherwise  ex- 
perience, which  I  had  acquired  during  the  more  than 
a  half  of  a  score  of  years  which  I  had  roughed  it, 
was  to  be  of  any  benefit  when  we  came  to  select  a 
route  of  traveling  from  New  York  City.  We  found 
ourselves  effectively  shelved  by  the  simple  circum- 
stance that  neither  of  us  commanded  the  six  cents 
which  was  necessary  for  our  ferriage  across  the  Hudson 
River  to  Hoboken  or  Weehawken  or  Jersey  City  where 
eight  of  the  nine  westbound  railroads  had  their  termini. 

This  left  us  the  New  York  Central  Lines  as  an 
only  avenue  of  exit  from  New  York  City.  Quitting 
the  park  bench,  we  walked  to  the  Grand  Central  Ter- 
minal, which  railroad  station  was  located  in  the  heart 
of  the  metropolitan  business  district.  We  had  rashly 
calculated  that  it  would  prove  child's  play  to  slip, 
mingled  with  a  crowd  of  bonafide  railroad  patrons, 
through  the  depot  to  where  we  could  board  an  outgoing 
passenger  train.  Arriving  at  the  gates,  the  only  avail- 
able entrance  to  the  train  shed,  we  staged  any  number 
of  futile  attempts  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  ticket  inspec- 
tors and  other  guards.  The  disturbance  we  created 
was  such  that  somebody  tipped  us  off  to  the  police. 
Forthwith  we  found  ourselves  "pinched"  by  a  John  Law 
who,  kindly  fellow  that  he  was,  confronted  us  with  the 
alternative  of  instantly  quitting  the  railroad  premises 
or  serving  a  stiff  term  at  BlackweH's  Island,  the  penal 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  21 

colony  of  the  municipality.  We  readily  chose  the 
lesser  of  the  two  evils  and  went  our  way  without  wait- 
ing for  further  unpleasant  developments  to  ensue. 

"  Having  had  our  initial  start  thoroughly  queered, 
we  set  out  on  Lexington  Avenue  to  reach  the  New 
York  Central  freight  yard  which  then  was  located  at 
One  Hundred  and  Fifty-Second  Street.  While  we 
plodded  along  the  seemingly  endless  avenue,  now  and 
again  we  stopped  en  route  at  private  residences  and 
shops  to  panhandle  food.  Everywhere  we  "battered" 
we  were  tartly  sent  on  our  way.  Evidently  consecu- 
tive generations  of  professional  mendicants  and  others 
had  exhausted  the  charity  of  the  New  Yorkers  we 
tackled  for  donations.  Dusk  had  begun  to  blend  with 
darkness  and  we  were  but  a  short  step  from  our  des- 
tination, when  Jack  London  managed  somehow  to 
secure  a  loaf  of  stale  bread  at  a  baker's. 

"Let's  camp  on  the  curb  of  the  street  and  have  a 
royal  feast,  pal!"  he  jubilantly  cried  on  returning  to 
where  I  was  waiting,  triumphantly  holding  aloft  the 
precious  gift. 

"And  attract  the  attention  of  the  mounted  police!" 
I  frowned,  giving  a  warning  which  made  him  quite 
willing  to  continue  our  walk. 

Beyond  the  further  end  of  the  freight  yard  and 
near  the  switch  by  which  the  outlet  siding  connected 
with  the  main  line  of  the  New  York  Central,  we  found 
a  resting  place  upon  some  discarded  railroad  sills  (ties). 
Scarcely  had  we  seated  ourselves,  than  below  us  in 
the  yard  we  heard  shooting  and  wild  shouting.  Short- 
ly afterward  a  man  rushed  by  where  we  were  lounging. 
Seeing  us  and  correctly  surmising  why  we  were  near 
the  spot  where  trains  departed  from  the  yard,  he 
called   out  that   sleuths   were   at   his   heels.    Another 


22  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

instant  —  and  carrying  the  loaf  of  stale  punk,  we,  too, 
had  joined  in  the  headlong  getaway.  We  were  running 
in  the  race  betwixt  the  fugitive  and  the  John  Laws 
from  whom  we  managed  to  escape  after  they  had 
chased  us  quite  a  distance. 

The  fellow  who  had  saved  us  from  the  penalty 
of  the  law  was  a  hobo.  He  introduced  himself  as 
"Stiffy  Brandon.'*  His  moniker  indicated  that  for  a 
beggar  craft  he  had  chosen  the  one  which  imposed 
upon  the  credulous  by  stimulating  the  awful  affliction  of 
the  paralytic.  He  told  how  he  was  scared  up  by 
special  agents  and  had  run  for  freedom  while  bullets 
came  mighty  nigh  whistling  his  requiem. 

In  the  company  of  Stiffy  Brandon  we  continued  on 
the  track  until  we  reached  a  "tower."  In  the  days 
prior  to  the  installation  of  automatic  train  protection,  a 
two-storied  structure  held  a  telegraph  operator  who 
from  his  vantage  point  in  the  second  loft  of  the  tower 
guarded  the  passing  traffic  against  collisions  and  other 
disasters  by  signalling  to  the  train  crews  by  means 
of  colored  flags  and  after  nightfall  with  lamps  of 
various   colors. 

Whenever  trains  approached  each  other  too  closely 
for  safe  railroading,  the  towerman  brought  the  offend- 
ing crews  to  terms  either  by  reducing  the  speed  of 
or  halting  their  trains.  It  was  to  wait  for  a  chance 
of  the  latter  sort  to  hobo  onward  that  in  a  thicket 
located  but  a  short  distance  from  the  track  and  tower 
we  lighted  a  low-burning  smudge  the  warm  glow  of 
which  afforded  protection  from  the  night  air  and  the 
thick  fog  which  heavily  shrouded  the  valley  of  the 
Hudson. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  23 

"Do  you  wish  to  share  the  bread  with  us,  strang- 
er?" kindly  inquired  Jack  London  when  we  were  ready 
to  make  away  with  the  loaf. 

"Since  early  morning  I  haven't  touched  food, 
friends!"   the   fellow   admitted,    accepting   our   charity. 

"It's  like  casting  bread  upon  the  waters!"  laughed 
Jack  London  while  he  handed  a  third  of  the  loaf  to 
Stiffy  Brandon  who  joined  us  in  bolting  the  pittance 
of  food. 

When  we  had  lunched  we  improvised  pillows  by 
rolling  our  shoes  into  our  coats  —  a  common  usage 
practiced  by  tramps.  Then  we  stretched  ourselves  by 
the  side  of  the  campfire  to  take  a  rest  while  we  waited 
for  a  train  to  stop. 

Jack  London  awakened  me  from  the  deep  slumber 
into  which  I  had  sunk  wearied  by  our  long  march, 
a  distance  of  more  than  two  hundred  paved  city  blocks. 
On  the  main  line  and  almost  abreast  of  where  we  were 
camping,  stood  a  passenger  train,  halted  by  the  tower- 
man  and  awaiting  his  signal  to  proceed  on  its  journey. 

"Where's  the  other  guy.  Jack?"  I  asked  rubbing 
the  sleep  from  my  eyes,  noticing  the  absence  of  our 
fellow-tramp. 

"And  where  are  our  coats  and  shoes?"  stormed 
my  travel  mate,  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  our 
pillows,  too,  had  disappeared. 

"The  scoundrel  with  whom  we  broke  bread,  has 
done  us  this  turn  to  prove  his  gratitude!"  I  angrily 
shouted. 

But  we  promptly  realized  the  full  extent  of  our 
predicament.  I  proposed  that  we  take  advantage  of 
the  moment  by  hoboing  the  passenger  train  to  a  town 


24  From  Coast  to  Coast  zmth  Jack  London. 

or  city  where  the  outlook  would  be  more  promising 
to  panhandle  other  coats  and  shoes  than  it  was  at  the 
lone  watch  tower  by  the  railroad. 

In  our  stocking  feet  we  painfully  stumbled  to  the 
side  of  the  track.  We  arrived  in  fhe  nick  of  time  to 
swing  aboard  the  departing  train  onto  its  "blind  bag- 
gage," as  is  called  the  front  platform  of  the  first  car 
coupled  to  the  rear  of  the  engine  tender. 

While  we  were  discussing  the  miserable  treatment 
we  had  received  at  the  hands  of  a  hobo  we  had  trusted 
to  be  incapable  of  robbing  his  own  kind,  the  train, 
then  running  at  a  fair  rate  of  speed,  began  to  take  water 
from  a  track  tank.  This  was  a  chute-like  contraption 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  made  of  flush-riveted 
plates  and  built  between  the  rails  in  the  center  of  the 
track.  From  an  adjacent  pumping  station  water  was 
let  into  the  chute  from  where  it  was  drawn  aboard  the 
moving  train  by  means  of  a  scoop  which  extended 
at  an  easy  gradient  through  the  bottom  plates  of  the 
engine   tender. 

"Hustle  over  here,  A.  No.  1 !  See  our  train  taking 
water  on  the  fly  !**  Jack  London  cried  out  in  excitement, 
bringing  me  hurrying  to  his  side  where  between  the 
cars  we   could   watch   the   process   of   the   track   tank. 

Neither  of  us  had  previously  hoboed  the  blind 
baggage  of  a  passenger  train  of  one  of  the  few  rail- 
road systenis  which  at  that  time  were  equipped  with 
track  tanks.  Furthermore,  we  were  quite  innocent  of 
knowledge  of  the  fact  that  the  water  chute  held  a 
capacity  to  supply  the  requirements  of  the  wet  fluid 
to  ^double  header"  trains,  as  trains  pulled  by  two  en- 
gines  were   called   in   the   parlance   of   the   railroaders. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


25 


The  engine  caught  water  on  the  fly.    And  so  did  we. 


26  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

Soon  the  capacity  of  the  tender  of  our  engine  was 
reached.  Then  the  surplus  shot  over  the  rear  of  the 
tender.  This  overflow  caught  us  on  our  necks  as  we 
were  bending  over  to  watch  the  sight.  The  water  struck 
us  with  the  enormous  pressure  produced  by  the  im- 
mense force  of  the  speeding  train  on  the  water  drawn 
upwards  in  the  scoop.  But  for  the  fortunate  circum- 
stance that  to  gaze  downward  the  better,  we  had 
taken  a  firm  hold  of  the  guard  railing  of  the  platform, 
for  a  certainty  we  would  have  shared  the  fate  of  the 
many  trespassers  who  were  washed  off  moving  trains 
by  the  overflow  from  track  tanks  to  be  dashed  upon 
the  right  of  way  and  there  to  meet  a  most  horrible 
death. 

As  it  was,  we  were  almost  drowned  in  the  torrent 
of  the  overflow.  When  we  had  traveled  beyond  the 
zone  of  immediate  danger,  wet  through  and  through 
as  we  were,  we  were  chilled  by  the  cold  draught  of 
air  generated  by  the  train  which  soon  after  leaving 
the  track  tank  attained  a  speed  of  better  than  a  mile 
a  minute. 

Seventy  rniles  further  on,  at  Poughkeepsie,  the 
train  made  its  first  halt.  Even  before  the  coaches  had 
been  brought  to  a  complete  stop,  we  were  taken  in 
charge  by  a  railroad  sleuth.  I  could  readily  recognize 
our  captor  to  this  day,  as  then  but  recently  a  savage 
hobo  had  bit  off  one  of  his  ears.  The  officer  marched 
us  to  the  city  lockup  where  the  warden,  Samaritan 
that  he  was,  supplied  us  shivering  ones  with  shoes 
from  a  collection  of  castoffs  brought  to  headquarters 
by  the  local  police.  While  most  charitably  inclined, 
our  friend  proved  himself  very  remiss  in  the  perform- 
ance of  his  official  duties,  or,  and  this  was  most  likely, 
he  had  intentionally  left  improperly  fastened  the  door 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


27 


of  the  cage  into  which  he  had  placed  us.  Anyhow, 
when  on  an  errand,  he  went  from  the  calaboose,  we 
released  ourselves  from  the  cell  and  left  the  jail.  Then 
we  hurried  from  the  city  by  way  of  alleys  and  byways 
which  were  not  frequented  during  the  hush  of  the 
night. 


28  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


OUR  THIRD  ADVENTURE 


"In  the  Thick  of  the  Hobo  Oame.** 


BREAK  of  day  was  painting  the  eastern  horizon  with 
rainbow  tints,  when  we  swung  aboard  a  freight 
train  passing  at  reduced  speed  through  Rhinediff. 
Unmolested  we  hoboed  to  the  West  Albany  Yard  where 
a  policeman  went  for  us.  By  a  very  close  shave  we 
escaped  arrest.  Later  on  we  climbed  aboard  an  out- 
bound train  of  empty  stock  cars.  We  had  scarcely 
entered  a  car,  when  coming  in  by  an  end  door,  a 
brakeman   paid   us   a   visit. 

"Got  any  money  on  which  to  ride,  fellows?"  he 
roughly  asked.  At  the  same  time  he  threateningly 
whirled  a  stout  hickory  club,  such  as  was  carried  in 
the  days  preceding  the  universal  introduction  of  auto- 
matic brake  devices  by  every  trainman  for  use  in 
setting  and  releasing  of  the  brakes. 

"We  are  down-and-outers  hunting  for  employment, 
sir!"  Jack  London  humbly  volunteered,  excusing  our 
presence. 

"Do  you  carry  cards?"  gruffly  inquired  the  rail- 
road man,  having  reference  to  identification  cards 
issued  to  members  by  labor  unions. 

"We're  non-unionists,  friend!"  admitted  my  hobo 
mate,  finding  himself  cornered. 

"Scabs  shan't  ride  my  train!  Therefore,  if  you 
fellows  value  your  hides  don't  allow  me  to  catch  sight 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  29 

of  you  aboard  these  cars  after  this  train  quits  the 
Schenectady  water  plug!"  he  roared  at  us  and  then 
withdrew  from  the  car. 

In  the  stock  car  adjoining  the  one  we  were  hoboing, 
the  shack  found  other  trespassers. 

Presently  we  heard  him  snarl:  "Got  any  money 
with  which  to  square  yourselves  for  this  trip?" 

The  answer  he  received  must  have  proven  an  unsat- 
isfactory one  for  presently  he  called  for  a  showdown 
of  union  cards. 

"Here  they  are  for  your  inspection.  They  arc  paid 
to  date,  Brother  Workman!"  was  the  reply  which 
echoed  above  the  racket  raised  by  the  cars. 

"WhereVe  you  boes  traveling  to  anyhow?"  growled 
the  brakeman. 

"To  Rochester  where  weVe  got  jobs  waiting  our 
arrival,  friend!"  he  was  told. 

"There  are  already  too  many  men  out  of  work  now 
at  Rochester!  Therefore,  if  you  fellows  value  your 
hides  don't  allow  me  to  catch  sight  of  you  aboard 
these  cars  after  this  train  quits  the  Schenectady  water 
plug!"  warned  the  railroad  shack  who  grafted  while 
his  job  lasted.  Then  he  would  appear,  sailing  under 
another  assumed  name,  on  some  other  railroad  where 
he  plied  his  crooked  game  until  frowned  upon  by  his 
honest  fellow-employes  who  usually  lent  a  helping 
hand  to  have  the  unprincipled  "boomer"  discharged 
from  the  service. 

Among  the  tramps  who  were  left  behind  at  a 
water  station  located  some  miles  beyond  the  city  of 
Schenectady,  we  discovered  Stiffy  Brandon,  the  rascal 
who  so  meanly  had  repaid  our  charity.  He  grudgingly 
confessed  that  after  he  robbed  us  while  we  were 
sleeping,  he  had  sneaked  back  into  the  freight  yard. 


30 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


There  foolhardily  defying  arrest,  he  had  come  away 
from  New  York  aboard  the  same  freight  train  with 
which  we  had  connected  at  West  Albany.  He  already 
had  disposed  of  the  footwear.  But  he  wore  our  coats 
drawn  over  his  own,  one  squeezed  into  the  other  —  this 
in  accordance  with  a  custom  observed  by  all  hoboes 
who  were  seeking  purchasers  for  garments  dishonestly 
obtained.  We  took  charge  of  our  coats.  Then  we 
settled  for  the  theft  and  the  absence  of  our  shoes  by 
handing  the  scoundrel  such  a  sound  drubbing,  that 
when  we  chased  him  from  the  vicinity  of  the  water 
plug,  he  swore  to  even  the  trouncing  though  this  nec- 
essitated his  following  us  all  the  way  across  the  con- 
tinent. 

Soon  afterward  a  train  pulled  up  to  take  on  water. 
We  crawled  into  a  hiding  place  aboard.  With  the 
exception  of  a  close  race  with  a  city  cop  who  at  Utica 
hot-footed  it  after  us,  we  had  no  other  encounter  worth 
while  chronicling  until  we  landed  in  the  western  out- 
skirts of  the  city  of  Buffalo. 


From  Const  to  Coast  with  J<Kk  London,  31 

OUR  FOURTH  ADVENTURE 

"Hyenas  in  Hviman  Form." 


THE  freight  yards  of  the  New  York  Central  Lines 
were  located  at  West  Seneca.  In  close  proximity 
to  the  extensive  terminal  were  the  residences  of 
some  of  the  employees  of  the  Buffalo  street  car  system. 
During  the  day  many  of  these  men  rang  up  fares, 
twisted  brakes  and  controllers  and  honorably  earned 
stipends  considered  quite  sufficient  to  meet  the  needs 
of  fellow-workers  who  were  not  let  in  on  the  graft  the 
others  plied  after  nightfall.  Then  they  hooked  to  the 
coats  of  their  uniforms  a  badge  supplied  to  its  consta- 
bles by  Erie  County,  New  York.  Equipped  with  club 
and  revolver  they  set  out  on  a  hunting  expedition. 
Odd  indeed  was  the  quarry  stalked  by  these  gents  in 
the  dark  when  Br'er  Rabbit  and  other  prey  of  the 
legitimate  huntsman  had  retreated  to  their  lairs.  The 
street  car  roughs  were  hunting  penniless  out-of-works 
who,  in  many  instances,  had  dependents  looking  to 
them  for  support.  Fortunates  who  had  daily  bread 
a-plenty  were  searching  for  unfortunates  who  not  even 
had  a  place  to  rest  their  weary  bodies! 

Judas  Iscariot  who  for  paltry  shekels  peddled  his 
immortality  stood  no  comparison  with  the  black  souls 
of  these  residents  of  Buffalo.  The  miserables  which 
they  caught  were  handed  over  to  the  authorities  for 


32  Fro}n  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

a  fee  amounting  to  twenty-five  cents  for  each  prisoner. 
The  law  sent  the  unfortunates  to  serve  long  terms  in 
the  Erie  County  Penitentiary,  then  universally  con- 
ceded to  be  the  most  shameless  money  leeching  prop- 
osition within  the  confines  of  the  graft-ridden  state 
of  New   York. 

As  were  all  hoboes  who  had  attained  or  were 
aspiring  to  attain  the  professional  rating,  so  Jack 
London  and  I  were  amply  apprised  of  the  great 
menace  which  threatened  every  box  car  tourist  who 
dared  to  linger  after  dusk  at  West  Seneca  yard. 
Furthermore,  only  recently  while  hoboing  eastward, 
Jack  London  was  "glummed"  at  Niagara  Falls,  also 
in  Erie  County,  where  he  drew  down  a  sentence  of 
thirty  days  which  he  served  in  the  notorious  work- 
house. 

It  was  night  time  when  we  arrived  at  West 
Seneca.  Without  tarrying  an  unnecessary  moment 
we  continued  westward  on  the  track  until  we  walked 
into  Angola.  In  the  morning  a  freight  stopped  at 
this  first  water  stop  beyond  Buffalo.  While  looking 
over  the  train  for  a  likely  hiding  place,  we  ran  across 
a  stock  car  loaded  with  cabbage.  An  end  door  of 
the  car  stood  ajar  —  possibly  somebody  had  helped 
himself  to  a  mess  of  the  succulent  vegetable.  We 
climbed  aboard  the  car  and  barricaded  the  end  door 
with  cabbage  heads.  Then  we  built  for  ourselves 
from  the  green  goods  a  nest  the  sides  of  which  reached 
almost  flush  with  the  ceiling  of  the  stock  car.  From 
our  hiding  place  we  could  peek  about  but  were  pro- 
tected   from    casual    observation. 

Coupled  ahead  of  the  cabbage  car  ran  a  gondola 
loaded  with  heavy  machinery.  When  the  train  began 
to  draw  away  from  Angola,  a  fellow   swung  aboard 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  33 

this  car.  A  moment  after  he  had  concealed  himself 
in  the  machinery,  two  other  men  boarded  the  gondola. 
That  they  were  dangerous  scoundrels  they  proved 
when  the  freight  had  attained  a  high  rate  of  speed. 
They  made  the  hobo  crawl  from  his  hiding  place  and 
had  him  hold  his  hands  aloft  while  they  searched 
through  his  pockets.  They  found  nothing  worth  tak- 
ing away.  Just  the  same  the  inhuman  hounds  forced 
the  poor  fellow  to  leap  for  his  life  from  the  racing 
train.  Man  was  not  built  to  hop  from  speeding  cars 
to  rock-ballasted  track  where  there  awaited  him  death 
or  lifelong  crippling.  On  a  grade  several  miles  beyond 
the  scene  of  their  beastial  deed,  the  robbers  quit  the 
train. 

While  the  yeggs  had  no  inkling  that  we  had  wit- 
nessed their  crime,  an  alert  brakeman  who  chanced 
to  stray  over  the  top  of  the  cars,  spotted  our  roost. 
He  saw  to  it  that  we  had  a  stop-over  at  the  next  halt 
of  the  train.  This  was  Erie,  the  hustling  lake  port 
city  of  Pennsylvania. 

To  avoid  running  counter  of  yeggs,  we  decided 
to  ride  passenger  trains  until  we  had  passed  Cleveland. 
Then  the  Buffalo  -  Cleveland  district  of  the  railroad 
was  the  stamping  ground  of  numerous  bands  of  hobo 
cutthroats  who  preferably  preyed  upon  fellow-tramps. 

From  Erie  we  made  the  "White  Mail."  Climbing 
on  behind  us  onto  the  blind  baggage  of  the  crack 
train  came  two  youths  who  acted  so  awkward  on  the 
job,  that  a  third  trespasser,  an  elderly,  typical  hobo, 
lent  them  a  helping  hand  while  they  mounted  to  the 
platform.  Even  before  the  train  had  drawn  beyond  the 
limit  of  the  Erie  yard,  from  snatches  we  caught  of 
a  conversation  into  which  the  trio  had  entered,  we 
became   informed  that   the   nasty  tramp  had   induced 


34  hrom  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

the  lads  to  run  away  from  their  homes.  He  promised 
to  guide  them  to  Texas  where  they  would  lead  the 
life  of  cowboys.  He  proposed  other  crack-brained 
inducements  for  the  youths  to  embark  upon  the  law- 
less and  degenerate  existence  of  the  wandering  beggars 
of  hobodom. 

"Do  you  recall  the  turn  which  the  'stickups*  today 
handed  to  the  poor  bum?"  Jack  London  remarked 
in  a  mumbled  aside,  not  wishing  that  the  others  over- 
hear his  comment. 

**What  has  that  got  to  do  with  these  chaps?"  I  per- 
plexedly retorted,  not  noting  a  connection. 

"Abide  your  time  and  you  will  learn!"  he  rejoined 
and  then  we  returned  to  listen  to  the  lofty  air  castles 
which  were  rated  as  truths  by  the  guileless  boys  who 
with  all-absorbing  interest  hearkened  to  their  tempter. 

At  Conneaut,  Ohio,  a  freight  train  blocked  the 
progress  of  the  mail.  Our  train  halted  while  the 
freight  cleared  the  main  line  by  backing  over  a  cross- 
over switch  onto  the  eastbound  track.  Then  the 
"Fast  Mail"  proceded  on  its  journey.  The  train  had 
attained  quite  a  bit  of  speed,  yet  was  running  none 
too  swift  to  serve  his  purpose,  when  Jack  London 
called  the  attention  of  everybody  to  something  which 
seemed  to  have  occurred  on  the  track  at  the  side  of 
the  train.  A  first  view  was  allowed  to  the  burly 
tramp  who  had  eagerly  pressed  forward.  The  fellow 
had  leaned  far  out  from  the  car  and  was  lightly  bal- 
ancing himself  with  the  tips  of  his  toes  upon  the 
rim  of  the  platform  when  Jack  London  gave  him  a 
sudden  shove  which  sent  the  detestable  vagrant  spinn- 
ing into  space. 

"He's  merely  cashing  in  less,  by  far,  than  that 
which  by  rights  he  so  richly  deserved  for  attempting 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  35 

to  ruin  your  chances  in  life,  lads!"  my  comrade  told 
the  waywards  when  he  finally  managed  to  reassure 
them  that  we  were  their  friends  and  not  hobo  yeggs. 

Quickly  the  train  attained  topnotch  speed.  Evi- 
dently, the  engineer  was  driving  his  engine  at 
fastest  rate  while  endeavoring  to  retrieve  time  lost  by 
the  delay.  While  the  cars  raced  onward,  in  the  narrow 
limits  of  the  coach  platform,  was  enacted  one  of  the 
strangest  episodes  I  encountered  in  the  course  of  my 
world  -  wide  wanderings.  Jack  London,  himself  a 
wayward  youth,  undertook  to  preach  to  the  runaways 
the  truth  that  the  worst  of  parents  was  a  veritable 
saint  in  comparison  with  the  best  guardian  the  abyss 
of  hobodom  had  to  offer.  It  was  a  matter  of  two  hours 
ere  the  express  reduced  its  terrific  pace  on  entering 
the  yard  at  CoUinwood,  located  a  short  distance  east  of 
the  limits  of  the  city  of  Cleveland.  All  the  while  my 
hobo  mate  bravely  continued  his  preaching  until  over 
and  over  again  the  lads  had  promised  that  they  would 
return  home'  by  the  first  train. 

As  the  *'White  Mail"  rolled  under  the  train  shed 
of  the  Union  Station  at  Cleveland,  we  dropped  from 
the  blind  baggage  to  the  ground.  Detectives  routed  us. 
So  anxious  did  the  sleuths  seem  to  lay  their  hands  on 
our  persons,  that,  maybe  they  had  received  telegraphic 
orders  for  our  apprehension.  Possibly  the  hobo  who 
was  bounced  by  Jack  London  at  the  Conneaut  cross- 
over was  injured  by  his  fall.  Society  will  slobber  over 
and  tenderly  care  for  every  hobo  who  receives  a  de- 
served bump.  But  how  many  citizens  are  there  who 
would  waste  the  least  attention  on  a  professional 
beggar  who,  frequently  posing  as  a  workingman,  now- 
adays might  often  be  seen  hoboing  over  the  land  with 
from  one  to  a  dozen  minors   whose   futures   were   in- 


36 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


variably  and  irretrievably  blasted  by  the  criminal  of 
criminals  who  stopped  short  of  nothing. 

In  the  heat  of  making  our  getaway  the  way  wards 
became  separated  from  our  company.  And  this  is 
my  fervent  hope:  that  they  and  theirs  practice  toward 
others  the  service  rendered  unto  them  by  noble  Jack 
London. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  37, 


OUR  FIFTH  ADVENTURE 


'The  Hoboes'  Pendulum  of  Death." 


THIS  day  we  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  Stiffy 
Brandon!  Having  accomplished  a  clean  geta- 
way from  the  officers,  we  thoughtfully  accorded  a 
wide  berth  to  the  premises  of  the  Union  Station.  We 
regained  the  railroad  a  safe  distance  from  the  2one 
wherein  for  us  lurked  trouble.  While  we  walked  on 
the  grade  which  steeply  rose  from  the  banks  of  the 
Cuyahoga  Creek,  the  pride  of  the  Clevelanders,  a 
passenger  train  overtook  us.  As  the  cars  flashed 
abreast  of  where  we  stood  on  the  right  of  way,  we 
saw  a  hobo  dangling  from  the  gunnels  —  these  were 
the  inch-gauged  trusses  which  helped  to  sustain  the 
weight  of  the  coach  bodies.  We  recognized  the  rod- 
rider,  though  he  failed  to  see  us  as  he  held  his  eyes 
tightly  shut  against  dust  and  cinders  which  whirled 
about  in  the  draught  created  by  the  train.  We  highly 
appreciated  the  fact  that  the  fellow  was  unaware  he 
had  out-hoboed  us.  Every  hobo,  including  the  sloven- 
liest, firmly  believed  himself  to  be  the  wisest  of  the 
wise  and  to  stand  without  compeer  in   the   fraternity. 

In  other  respects  this  was  our  day  of  misfortune. 
Near  the  summit  of  the  grade  we  boarded  a  passing 
freight  train.  While  the  train  stopped  at  Port  Clinton, 
we  went  to  a  residence  located  nearby  to  ask  for  a 
drink  of  water  wherewith  to  quench  our  thirst.    Re- 


38  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

peated  ringing  of  the  door  bell  at  the  front  entrance 
brought  no  response.  Then  we  tackled  the  side  door 
with  no  better  result.  And  though  we  knocked  for 
some  time  at  the  kitchen  entrance  none  came  to  attend 
to  our  want.  Deciding  that  no  one  was  at  home,  we 
helped  ourselves  to  our  needs  at  a  pump  we  espied 
in  the  back  yard.  Then  we  retraced  our  way  to  the 
tracks.  There,  while  we  patiently  waited  for  the  train 
to  resume  its  journey,  we  were  nabbed  by  a  constable. 

'T  want  you  fellows  on  a  charge  of  being  danger- 
ous and  suspicious  characters!"  snarled  the  John  Law 
when  we  vehemently  protested  against  the  outrage. 

But  he  took  no  stock  whatever  in  our  objections; 
quite  to  the  contrary,  he  came  back  by  snapping  hand- 
cuffs to  our  wrists.  Then  he  conveyed  us  to  the 
residence  where  we  had  drunk  our  fill  of  water.  A 
typical  old  maid  met  us  at  the  entrance  of  the  house. 

"For  sure!  They  are  the  lads  who  tried  to  bur- 
glarize my  home,  Mr.  Officer!"  cackled  the  ancient 
dame,  identifying  us.  "They  attempted  to  enter  here 
by  way  of  the  doors.  Failing  to  gain  an  entrance, 
they  were  wrenching  off  the  handle  of  yonder  yard 
pump,  when  they  were  chased  away  by  the  barking  of 
Atkinson's    dog." 

Explanations  were  in  order.  We  had  almost 
exhausted  our  vocabulary  for  words  wherewith  to  plead 
our  innocence  of  intentional  wrong-doing,  when  the 
constable,  though  most  reluctantly,  permitted  our  re- 
lease from  custody. 

At  this  juncture,  the  freight  train  began  to  depart 
from  Port  Clinton.  An  empty  box  car  with  its  doors 
standing  ajar  most  invitingly  beckoned  for  a  contin- 
uance of  our  journey.  Posthaste  we  ran  to  connect 
with  the  open  car.     But  the  minion  of  law  and  order 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London^  39 

took  after  us.  Most  likely,  he  saw  a  chance  to  work 
up  against  us  a  "case"  which  could  be  made  to  "stick** 
in  court.  Fee-hungry  as  he  was,  he  ran  so  close  at 
our  heels,  that  we  escaped  "from  his  clutches  only  by 
a  headlong  dive  from  the  car  by  the  door  which  stood 
open  opposite  to  the  one  by  which  we  had  entered 
and  through  which  the  cop  had  climbed  aboard  to 
capture  us.  We  hurriedly  mounted  a  side  ladder  of 
a  passing  freight  car.  But  to  the  roofs  of  the  cars 
went  the  John  Law  chasing  us  and  so  compelled  our 
return  to  solid  ground.  There  he  raced  after  us  along- 
side the  moving  train.  We  were  pressed  so  closely 
by  him,  that  as  a  last  recourse,  we  swung  onto  the 
gunnels  beneath  a  freight  car.  Fearing  the  risk  of 
injury,  the  cop  refused  to  dive  under  the  running  car. 
He  contented  himself  to  trot  by  the  side  of  our  traveling 
haven  of  refuge,  all  the  while  bawling  commands 
demanding  our  voluntary  surrender. 

"Never  count  your  fees  until  youVe  got  them 
earned!"  derisively  sang  out  Jack  London,  at  the 
moment  when  the  constable  abandoned  the  foot  race 
with  the  train  which  was  running  at  an  ever  faster 
rate  of  speed. 

Onward  we  traveled  lazily  stretched  across  the  gun- 
nels and  enjoying  a  deserved  respite  from  the  strenuous 
man-hunt  we  had  sustained.  Quite  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  the  members  of  the  train  crew  had  witnessed  the 
fray,  we  entertained  each  other  with  joshing  at  the 
expense  of  the  officer  whose  authority  we  had  put 
to  naught.  But  the  crew,  the  rulers  of  the  train,  were 
law-fearing  folk  who  doubtlessly  looked  askance  at  our 
wanton  defiance  of  mandates  by  which  they,  the  rail- 
roaders, abided.  The  first  thing  we  were  to  be  aware 
of,  we  who  were  riding  in  the  cellar  of  Hades  beneath 


40  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

the  jolting  car,  was  to  behold  how  a  member  of  the 
train  crew  left  the  caboose  which  swung  at  the  tail  end 
of  the  train  and  came  running  forward  over  the  roofs 
of  the  cars. 

Although  we  could  not  see  the  man  who  was 
abroad  beyond  the  constricted  arc  of  our  range  of 
vision,  we  had  a  means  which  allowed  a  close  tab  on 
his  doings.  This  merely  was  a  matter  of  keeping  a 
watch  on  his  shadow  to  be  conectly  informed  of 
his  designs  and  whereabouts.  The  silhouette  of  any 
trainman  abroad  on  the  cars  while  under  way  was 
cast  groundward  by  the  sun  or,  if  after  nightfall,  by 
the  moon,  or  should  the  night  be  a  moonless  or  overcast 
one,  then  by  the  rays  emitted  by  the  lighted  lantern 
which  after  dusk  was  carried  by  every  railroad  man 
employed  on  trains  or  trackage. 

And  this  day  the  sun  shone  from  a  cloudless  sky. 
The  shadow  of  the  railroader  informed  us  that  he 
was  coming  forward  and  that  he  had  abruptly  stop- 
ped on  arriving  a-top  of  the  box  car  beneath  which 
we  had  taken  lawless  passage.  He  was  a  brakeman 
as  this  fact  was  borne  out  by  the  hickory  brake  club 
he  carried.  He  descended  on  a  side  ladder  of  our 
freight  car.  Arriving  at  the  lowest  rung  of  the  ladder, 
he  took  a  survey  of  the  lower  works  of  the  car  and 
only  when  he  had  assured  himself  that  he  had  correctly 
judged  the  distance  from  the  caboose  to  our  hiding 
place,  he  yelled:  "The  conductor  of  this  train  has 
ordered  that  you  get  out  from  under  this  train.  Right 
now!  Instantly!  Do  you  hoboes  understand!" 

"Get  us  out  from  under  this  speeding  train,  if  you 
can,  sir!'*  the  brakeman  was  dared  by  Jack  London 
who  was  cocky  from  having  defeated  the  designs  of 
the  Port  Clinton  police  officer. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


41 


We  were  chased  by  the  John  Law. 


42  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

The  railroader  neither  heeded  London's  tart  invi- 
tation nor  uttered  a  syllable  in  reply.  But  almost 
instantly  the  color  of  his  countenance  turned  to  a 
livid  crimson  —  a  telltale  sign  of  fury  otherwise  con- 
trolled. Presently  a  diabolic  grin  made  an  appearance 
in  his  face.  To  us  who  believed  ourselves  safely 
ensconced  beneath  the  car,  this  hard  grin  only  helped 
to  confirm  our  belief  that  no  common  agency  could 
dislodge  us  from  under  the  train  —  at  least  not  while 
the  cars  continued  to  race  at  better  than  forty  miles 
an  hour. 

Having  received  our  defy,  the  brakeman  climbed 
back  to  the  roof  of  the  car.  We  heartily  laughed  when 
we  saw  by  his  shadow  that  he  was  returning  to  the 
caboose.  There  he  remained  but  a  brief  while,  for 
presently  we  noted  his  coming  again  forward  over  the 
cars.  But  this  time  he  carried  a  coil  of  light  rope 
—  judging  the  gauge  by  the  diameter  of  its  shadow. 
On  his  approaching  to  where  we  were,  we  discerned 
a  coupling  link  dangling  from  one  end  of  the  rope. 
The  link,  weighty  and  made  of  wrought  iron,  was  of 
the  pattern  used  in  the  days  prior  to  the  universal 
introduction  of  automatic   car   coupling   devices. 

As  the  railroader  had  done  on  his  preceding  trip, 
so  at  this  instance,  he  halted  when  he  had  arrived  on  the 
roof  of  our  car.  We  broke  into  boisterous  laughter  at 
the  remarks  of  derision  which  we  passed  regarding  the 
helplessness  of  the  shack  in  the  face  of  our  deter- 
mination to  hobo  his  train  in  spite  of  his  orders  to 
the  contrary.  But  the  very  next  minute  our  laughter 
was  superseded  by  groans.  By  merest  chance,  I 
glanced  at  Jack  London.  His  countenance  had  assum- 
ed an  ashen-gray  overcast.  His  eyes  were  protruding. 
Further,   I    could   hear   his   teeth   clattering.    ,Too,   I 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  43 

felt  myself  shuddering.  And  there  were  no  end  of 
other  mental  and  physical  manifestations  to  prove 
that  we  both  were  suffering  in  the  agonies  of  mortal 
fright. 

There  was  ample  occasion  for  our  panic.  The 
shadow  play  had  told  how  th6  trainman  had  uncoiled 
the  rope.  Then  he  had  deliberately  lowered  the 
coupling  link  into  the  canyon  formed  by  the  front 
wall  of  our  car  and  the  rear  side  of  the  one  coupled 
ahead. 

A  faint  metallic  clinking  was  heard.  It  emanated 
from  the  heavy  link  coming  in  touch  with  the  coupling 
apparatus  of  the  cars.  On  our  part  another  throe  of 
most  dreadful  fright  —  then  Rip!  Crash!  Thump! 
Smash!  came  thunder-like  detonations  due  to  the  con- 
tact with  the  stationary  track  by  the  coupling  link 
which  sustained  the  momentum  of  the  racing  cars. 
These  detonations  alternated  with  crunching,  crushing 
and  splintering  which  resounded  from  the  havoc 
wrought  to  the  Iron  and  wood  work  of  the  car  by 
the  heavy  link  which  was  propelled  by  titanic  force 
to  and  from  the  track,  thus  faithfully  copying  the 
motion  of  a  gigantic  pendulum  wrecking  destruction 
to  everything  coming  within  the  radius  of  its  swing. 

As  the  brakeman  gradually  paid  out  the  rope 
which  held  the  iron  weight  in  check  and  to  its  work, 
at  a  similar  ratio  our  personal  danger  increased.  Near- 
er and  ever  nearer  approached  the  hideous  weapon  to 
where  we  lay  huddled  against  the  gunnels'  cast  iron 
supports  which  transverse  limited  our  retreat  from  the 
path  of  the  tool  of  vengeance  employed  in  bygone 
days  by  irate  railroaders. 

I  lay  farthest  from  the  death-dealing  railroad 
irpn.    That  is,  if  the  width  of  a  human  body  might 


44  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

be  reckoned  to  be  a  span  worthy  of  measurement. 
But  on  this  occasion  even  this  negligible  distance  made 
a  vast  difference  in  our  demeanor  confronted  as  we 
were  by  death.  Protected  by  the  body  of  Jack  London 
from  the  thick  shower  of  debris,  I  instantly  realized 
our  dire  peril.  I  yelled  to  London  to  hurl  himself 
from  the  moving  train  irrespective  of  the  consequen- 
ces of  such  a  leap  to  the  stationary  right  of  way.  He 
neither  made  a  least  move  nor  offered  a  reply  but 
dazedly  stared  at  the  ricochetting  link  —  in  fact,  he 
was  rendered  inanimate  by  terror  of  the  horrible  fate 
which  threatened  us. 

The  paying  out  of  the  rope  had  allowed  the  link 
to  come  within  a  few  inches  of  where  Jack  London 
lay  helplessly  paralyzed  with  fear.  It  was  then  that 
I  collared  my  mate  by  his  coat,  bodily  dragged  his 
nerveless  body  into  my  grasp  and  then,  fortunately 
clearing  the  rail  and  the  pounding  wheels,  I  flung 
him  to  the  right  of  way.  Again  Providence  inter- 
vened. The  train  was  thundering  over  the  crest  of 
a  high  embankment  and  when  I  let  go  of  London, 
he  rolled  down  a  grassy  slope. 

The  next  instant  I  was  ready  to  repeat  his  vault 
for  life.  But  ere  I  let  go  of  my  hold  on  the  handle 
of  the  car's  sliding  door,  I  glanced  back  into  the 
inferno  produced  by  the  pendulum  of  death.  Most 
timely  had  we  accomplished  our  exit!  The  flying 
weight  was  bending  the  gunnels  as  if  they  were  chaff: 
Exactly  overhead  of  where  we  had  lain  huddled,  hand- 
sized  splinters  were  easily  ripped  off  the  car  box  by 
the  cavorting  railroad  link. 

Then  I  leaped  —  a  leap  with  life  or  death  at  stake. 
I  performed  a  neat  line  of  somersaults  and  did  other 
acrobatic   stunts    ere,   like   Jack    London    had    before 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  45 

me,  I,  too,  was  deposited  at  the  foot  of  the  grass- 
covered  incline.  There  we  both  lay  sprawling  but 
uninjured.  But  so  terrific  was  the  horror  we  had 
passed  through  that  it  was  some  while  before  we  could 
shake  off  the  grip  of  our  experience. 

"And  say,  A.  No.  1,  didn't  we  make  a  hair's  breadth 
escape  from  the  finish  of  all  things  mundane?"  gasped 
Jack  London  when  finally  he  had  recovered  so  far  as 
to   connectedly   express   his   thoughts. 

"The  Road  provides  its  devotees  with  such  a 
grand  array  of  dangerous  entertainment,  one  chasing 
the  other  so  close  at  the  heel,  that  it  is  but  a  matter 
of  days  for  the  hobo  to  reach  the  end  of  his  lifetime," 
I  commented  contemplatively. 

"That's  so!"  he  blurted  out  and  then  a  weak  smile 
spread  over  his  wan  face,  indicating  that  he,  too,  com- 
prehended the  absolute  hopelessness  of  the  existence 
we  were  leading. 


46  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

OUR  SIXTH  ADVENTURE 

"The  KiUing  of  the  Goose." 


X^  TE  walked  to  Gray  town.  There  we  stopped  for 
\A/  brief  rest  and  improved  the  opportunity  by 
^  ^  striking  out  to  panhandle  a  meal.  My  lunch 
was  earned  by  trimming  the  acre-sized  lawn  of  a 
residence.  Returning  to  the  railroad  station,  which 
by  way  of  mention,  is  the  pre-arranged  meeting  place 
of  all  hoboes  traveling  in  company,  I  waited  for  the 
coming  of  Jack  London.  More  than  an  hour  had 
elapsed    ere   he   arrived    at   the    depot. 

"Been  having  troubles  connecting  with  a  handout, 
sir?"  I  gruffly  quizzed,  having  completely  lost  my 
patience  because  of  the  long  wait  and  the  fact  that 
several  "good"  freight  trains  had  stopped  and  then 
without  us  had   departed   from   Graytown. 

"None  whatever!"  he  reported,  speaking  as  if  he 
resented  my  insinuation  of  his  being  incapable  of 
properly  looking  after  his  wants.  "Contrariwise,  while 
I  was  absent,  I  was  continually  making  away  with  a 
really  firstclass  meal." 

"Tackled  a  drummer  who  treated  you  to  a  hotel 
course-dinner  which  took  an  hour  to  finish?"  I  came 
back,  believing  I  had  struck  a  straight  clew  as  com- 
mercial travelers  were  about  the  best  fellows  going. 

"No,  my  angel  wasn't  quite  up  to  the  generosity 
of  the  drummers!     Nevertheless,   I  spoke  the  truth P* 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


47 


The  hobo  was  a  slacker. 


48  From  Coast  to  Coast  zuitli  Jack  London. 

London  laughed,  and  when  I  insisted  on  hearing  the 
details  of  his  experience  he  reviewed  a  bit  of  ''human 
interest"  of  the  first  rating. 

"There's  a  woodpile  in  the  back  yard  and  you'll 
find  an  ax  hanging  on  the  wall  of  yonder  wood  shed, 
sir!"  Jack  London  was  advised  by  the  mistress  of  a 
residence  where  he  had  applied  for  food.  "And  only 
when  you  have  split  a  sufficiency  of  kindlings  to  have 
earned  your  meal,  shall  I  call  you  to  the  stoop  of  the 
kitchen.  But  if  this  arrangement  does  not  suit  you, 
you  have  the  privilege  of  continuing  on  your  way." 

"But,  as  I  was  saying,  I  am  starving,  marm!" 
rejoined  the  vagabond,  a  plea  which  proved  of  no 
avail  as  the  pertly  spoken  woman  sharply  shut  the 
door  in  his  face,  permitting  him  every  chance  to 
select  his  choice  of  either  of  her  propositions  without 
being  embarrassed  by   her   presence. 

Tramps,  especially  while  en  route,  cannot  well 
afford  to  miss  a  meal,  even  though  a  task  is  connected 
with  its  acquirement.  Too,  the  outdoor  existence  is  a 
most  phenomenal  appetizer.  Therefore  Jack  London 
accepted  the  wood  chopping  job  which  the  lady  of  the 
house  had  set  for  him  as  a  means  of  earning  his  dinner. 

He  went  to  work  with  a  will  to  reduce  the  size 
of  the  wood  pile.  This  proved  quite  an  undertaking. 
The  material  he  tackled  was  cordwood  cut  from  live 
oaks,  thoroughly  seasoned  in  the  heat  of  the  summer 
—  a  process  which  had  still  further  toughened  the 
stringy  fiber  of  the  hard  wood.  The  ax  was  not  of 
the  sharpest.  Yet  he  persevered  as  he  was  buoyed 
by  a  hope  that  the  meal  would  prove  commensurate 
with  the  great  exertions  he  expended  while  making 
a  scarcely  noticeable  inroad  on  the   cordwood. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  49 

Then  he  came  to  his  first  surprise.  It  was  in 
the  person  of  the  lady  of  the  residence  who  interrupted 
him  at  his  task  by  arriving  with  a  plate  on  which 
was  placed  a  succulent  roastbeef  sandwich  smothered 
with  gravy.  She  remained  until  he  had  partaken  of 
the  tidbit.  While  she  retraced  her  steps,  he  attacked 
with  renewed  vim  the  hearts  of  oak.  Then  for  a 
second  time  she  returned  to  regale  her  woodchopper 
with  a  plate  of  tasty  soup.  When  she  came  for  a 
third  time,  she  brought  a  saucer  of  delicious  salad. 
Repeating  her  trips,  she  gradually  fed  him  a  full  meal 
of  the  best  cookery.  Finally,  she  sweetly  informed  him, 
that  the  task  he  had  performed  sufficed  to  settle  for 
his  repast. 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  why  you  fed  me 
the  dinner  piecemeal,  marm?"  inquired  Jack  London 
before  he   took  his   leave. 

"But  .  .  .  and,  well  ...  I  don't  care  to  take  a 
stranger  into  my  confidences,  sir!"  she  blustered,  evad- 
ing  an   answer. 

"Suppose  I  would  appreciate  the  information, 
marm?"  persisted  Jack  London,  undaunted  by  her 
refusal. 

"Then  you  insist  that "  she  had  halted  in  her 

sentence  and  while  her  cheeks  flushed,  she  acted 
as  if  she  debated  with  herself  if  or  if  not  to 
tell  him,  then  she  went  on:  "I  fed  your  dinner  in 
courses  as  this  morning  a  hobo  who  preceded  you 
here  ate  his  meal  and  then  ran  off  without  touching 
the  ax,  though  this  day,  more  than  ever  previously,  I 
needed  kindlings  for  the  starting  of  fires!" 

"Verily,  verily!  Among  oureelves  we  hoboes  are 
our  worst  enemies!"  mused  Jack  London  as  he  went 
from  the  house  to  meet  me  at  the  railroad  station. 


50  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


OUR  SEVENTH  ADVENTURE 


"Shadows  of  the  Road. 


AT  midnight  and  soon  after  we  had  wearily  trudged 
into  Air  Line  Junction,  the  division  freight  train 
terminal  located  just  beyond  the  boundary  of  the 
city  of  Toledo,  the  fair  weather  which  had  prevailed  for 
so  many  weeks  abruptly  changed  to  a  drizzly  rain 
that  held  on. 

Rain-stormy  days  and,  more  especially,  such  nights 
as  this  one  was,  were  ideal  time  for  the  hoboing  of 
railroads.  Then  detectives  and  other  implacable  foes 
of  the  Wandering  Willies  have  retreated  from  track 
and  train  to  their  lairs  —  yard  or  station  offices  or, 
if  overtaken  en  route,  cabooses  or  engine  cabs. 

The  downpour  had  assumed  torrential  proportions 
when  a  freight  train  departed  from  the  yard.  We 
scanned  the  cars  while  they  passed  us  to  find  a  shelter 
aboard  from  the  miserable  weather.  Through  the 
gloom  of  the  night  we  saw  a  small  end  door  of  a  box 
car  to  be  standing  ajar.  Mounting  to  the  bumpers 
of  the  car,  we  took  note  by  the  flickering  light  of  a 
match  we  had  struck  that  the  contents  of  the  car 
was  lumber.  Evidently  an  amataur  had  attended  to 
the  loading  of  the  cargo,  for  while  the  boards  were 
stacked  upwards  until  flush  with  the  ceiling,  a  large 
space  remained  vacant  at  the  side  of  the  car  from  where 
we  surveyed  its  interior. 


Frem  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  51 

Momentarily  the  train  was  gaining  speed.  The 
box  car,  but  partly  loaded,  looked  most  inviting 
for  a  ride  through  the  rain-riven  night.  Without 
further  delay  we  climbed  aboard.  Right  then  a  series 
of  tribulations  commenced.  The  door  through  which 
we  had  entered  would  not  shut.  Not  even  when  we 
pulled  and  pushed  at  it  with  might  and  main.  Neither 
would  it  budge  when  we  had  returned  to  the  bumpers 
and  there  repeated  our  efforts  from  outside  the  car. 
Finally,  after  we  had  wasted  the  last  of  our  matches, 
the  blackness  of  the  night  thwarted  a  successful  search 
for  the  cause  of  the  clogging  of  the  door. 

Crawling  back  into  the  car,  only  too  soon  we  were 
to  become  aware  that  it  offered  but  a  most  indifferent 
shelter  from  the  unfriendly  elements.  In  a  corner 
and  farthest  from  the  spot  where  the  rain  driving  in 
through  the  open  end  door  splashed  to  the  floor,  we 
pitched  our  berth.  The  track  was  a  straight-away 
one  for  many  miles  beyond  Toledo.  Then  came  a 
curve  which  routed  the  train  to  run  in  a  direction 
which  brought  the  downpour  pattering  against  our 
cheeks.  This,  naturally,  sharply  aroused  us  from  our 
sleep.  We  scurried  for  shelter  to  another  comer. 
But  soon  another  curve  sent  the  storm  into  our  new 
retreat.  There  were  other  curves  and  more  changes 
of  our  berthing.  We  gave  up  all  further  attempts 
to  snatch  a  rest  when  the  floor  of  the  car  had  begun 
to  resemble  a  miniature  pond. 

The  train  made  a  first  halt  at  Ryan  where  it 
stopped  to  take  on  water.  D-uring  this  interim  in  the 
journey,  two  tramps  came  to  keep  us  company.  The 
newcomers  had  searched  the  whole  length  of  the 
train  to  find  shelter.  At  the  next  stop  another  pilgrim 
of  the  Road  joined  our  crowd.    Later  on,  where  the 


52  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

train  entered  a  giding,  five  other  tramps  were  added 
to  our  hobo  club.  Others  came  and  some  more  until 
no  less  than  a  score  of  bedraggled  tourists  were 
squeezing  each  other  in  a  space  which  now  became 
very  narrow   quarters. 

One  of  the  rovers  carried  a  flash  lantern.  While 
he  undertook  to  search  for  the  fault  which  prevented 
the  sliding  of  the  door,  I  recognized  him  to  be  a  fel- 
low badly  wanted  by  the  police.  He  removed  a 
splinter  of  wood  that  had  become  tightly  wedged  in 
•  the  runway.  Obviously,  it  was  placed  there  by  a 
hobo  who  feared  to  be  trapped  by  the  shutting  and 
fastening   of   the    door. 

While  jockeying  to  provide  a  favorable  position 
for  his  train  at  the  Butler  (Indiana)  coal  chute,  the 
engineer  slammed  the  brake  shoes  with  such  a  sudden 
force  against  the  rims  of  the  wheels  of  the  cars  which 
were  provided  with  automatic  brakes  that  the  remainder 
of  the  train  was  given  a  most  terrific  jolt.  This  sud- 
den shock  completely  disrupted  the  natural  adhesion 
supplied  by  heavy  weight  to  the  lumber  stowed  in  our 
car.  The  hefty  boards  were  hurled  forward  with  a 
momentum  so  great,  that  some  of  the  hoboes  were  mer- 
cilessly wedged  against  the  sides  of  the  freight  car. 
With  others  of  our  fellows  who  had  come  through  the 
accident  without  sustaining  serious  harm,  we  extricated 
ourselves  from  the  tangled  mass  of  jammed-  timbers 
and  crushed  humans.  Then  we  beat  a  quick  escape 
into   the   open. 

Extraordinarily  precipitate  was  our  exit  from  the 
box  car.  Actually  we  fairly  fell  over  each  other  to 
be  first  to  reach  the  right  of  way,  so  anxious  we 
were  to  remove  ourselves  promptly  from  the  vicinity 
of  the  mishap.    We  feared  an  interference  with  our 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  53 

travel  plans  and  other  inconveniences  should  the 
authorities  decide  to  hold  us  as  witnesses  or,  and 
this   was   likely,   to   punish   us   for   trespass. 

While  Jack  London  and  I  scurried  for  cover,  we 
heard  ringing  through  the  darkness  the  piteous  cries 
of  the  unfortunates  whom  in  their  agony  we  others 
had  shamelessly  deserted.  Still  we  went  on  —  we  did 
not  care  to  get  mixed  up  with  new  trouble.  Then, 
by  chance,  while  we  looked  back,  we  saw  how  a  gleam 
of  light  brightly  lit  up  the  interior  of  the  car  we  had 
quit  in  such  cowardly  haste.  This  brought  us  to  our 
senses.  Responding  to  the  urgings  of  our  outraged 
consciences,  we  decided  to  return  to  the  car  and  help 
with  the  rescue  of  the  injured,  irrespective  of  the 
outcome  of  such  a  step. 

Although  we  were  running  on  an  errand  of  mercy, 
impelled  by  a  natural  suspicion  to  which  every  hobo  is 
heir,  we  took  every  precaution  to  guard  against  unto- 
ward surprises.  Stealthily  mounting  the  bumpers,  we 
peeped  into  the  end  door  of  the  lumber  car.  We  dis- 
cerned neither  officers  nor  railroaders  in  the  freight  car. 
Instead  we  saw  by  the  light  of  his  flash  lantern  that 
the  yegg,  he  who  was  hunted  for  by  the  authorities, 
was  busily  working  over  the  injured.  He  was  not 
offering  succor  to  those  who  with  their  own  bodies 
had  become  the  living  cushions  which  had  saved  him 
from  sharing  their  fate;  quite  to  the  contrary,  he 
was  rifling  their  pockets  of  the  pitiful  contents  one 
might  expect  in  possession  of  penniless   hoboes. 

Slipping  back  into  the  night  -v^e  hurriedly  held  a 
council  of  war.  Well  aware  that  all  murderous  hobo 
criminals  carried  concealed  weapons,  we  decided 
against  giving  battle  to  the  degenerate.  Instead  we 
ran  to  the  railroad  depot  which  was  located  nearby. 


54 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 


There  we  acquainted  the  night-operator  with  the 
particulars  of  the  crime.  He  promptly  gathered  a 
posse.  But  ere  the  avengers  closed  in,  the  yegg  had 
escaped  from  the  car  from  which  soon  afterward  an 
ambulance  hauled  away  several  loads  of  battered 
hoboes. 

When  the  train  departed  from  the  coal  chute,  on  ac- 
count of  the  hard  rain,  we  climbed  back  into  the  lumber 
car.  But  this  time  we  crawled  a-top  of  the  cargo  where 
the  shifting  of  the.  timber  had  left  an  ample  space. 
But  before  we  allowed  ourselves  to  drop  off  to  sleep,  we 
barricaded  our  berth  in  such  manner  that  we  were 
secure  against  accident  or  other  interference.  By 
taking  this  precaution  we  merely  proved  that  we 
had  practically  mastered  the  lesson  of  not  putting  a 
further  trust  in  an  adhesion  to  each  other  of  either  the 
boards  of  the  lumber  or  the  vultures  of  the  Road. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  55 

OUR  EIGHTH  ADVENTURE 

"Old  Strikes  &  Company." 


EVEN  before  the  train  was  running  under  a  fair 
headway  again,  Jack  London  and  I  had  sunk  into 
sound  slumber.  From  our  rest  we  were  awakened 
by  loud  commands,  roughly  spoken.  Some  one  ordered 
our  obedience  to  the  law.  Instinctively  almost,  we  real- 
ized that  we  were  trapped  in  the  side-door  Pullman  by  a 
police  officer  as  our  fellow-hoboes  previously  had  been 
by  the  unstable  cargo. 

But  while  we  were  asleep,  at  stops  and  grades 
there  had  swarmed  into  the  car  a  new  lot  of  tramps. 
By  the  gray  light  of  dawn  we  saw  that  the  forepart  of 
the  car  was  packed  with  hoboes  like  a  can  with 
sardines.  These  rovers  hastily  complied  with  the 
mandate  of  the  John  Law.  Their  crowding  to  and 
crawling  through  the  narrow  aperture  of  the  end  door 
obscured  the  interior  of  the  car  to  the  view  of  the 
officer.  Grasping  our  opportunity,  Jack  London  and 
I  wriggled  back  over  the  boards  and  dropped  from 
sight  into  the  vacant  space  left  to  the  rear  of  the  lumber 
by  the  shifting  of  its  upper  layers. 

As  it  was,  tlie  captor  of  the  others  never  suspected 
our  presence.  Laying  low  in  our  retreat,  we  heard  him 
herding  and  then  leading  his  prisoners  away  into 
captivity.  Only  some  time  after  the  lightest  of  noise 
had  died  away  in  the  distance,  we  dared  to  emerge 
from  our  hiding  place. 


56  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

Rightly  it  is  said  that  no  blessing  comes  to  him 
who  trespasses  on  railroads!  Our  glee  that  another 
time  we  had  escaped  the  just  due  of  the  law,  proved 
of  brief  duration.  Scarcely  had  we  landed  on  the 
ground,  than  we  heard  some  one  hail.  When  we 
gazed  about  to  see  what  was  wanted  and  by  whom, 
we  recognized  in  the  person  of  him  who  had  hailed, 
"Old  Strikes." 

Some  time  or  another,  but  in  most  instances  no  end 
of  times,  every  hobo  roaming  at  will  over  the  land  had 
been  forewarned  against  Old  Strikes.  Approaching 
Jeff  Carr  of  Cheyenne  in  fearless  ferocity  when  it  came 
to  dealing  with  John  Tramps,  he  too  was  conceded  by 
the  latter  to  be  one  of  their  most  relentless  persecutors. 
By  natural  gravitation  he  came  to  his  abounding  dis- 
like for  everything  affiliated  with  tramping  and  tres- 
passing. In  his  day  he  had  been  a  car  inspector. 
While  searching  over  the  cars  for  needed  repairs,  he 
came  in  frequent  contact  with  every  species  of  the 
hobo.  Therefore,  it  could  not  have  been  otherwise 
but  that  a  great  chasm  of  hate  should  have  sprung 
up  between  him  who  earned  his  bread  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow  and  they  who  were  pure  and  simple 
parasites  of  humanity  and  who  everlastingly  and  most 
maliciously  sneered  at  every  toiler.  One  day  he  chose 
to  vent  his  spleen  on  a  box  car  tourist  who  had  given 
cause  for  punishment.  But  the  car  inspector  ran  up 
against  a  losing  proposition  when  he  tackled  the  tough 
—  he  came  out  second-best  from  the  fracas  which 
ensued.  This  humiliating  defeat  at  the  hands  of  one 
who  belorfged  to  a  class  he  hated  so  cordially,  added 
fresh  fuel  to  the  great  malice  he  bore  even  then 
towards  hobodom.  Finally,  he  resigned  from  his  job 
and  was  readily  granted  his  request  for  a  transfer  to 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  57 

the  position  of  a  yard  watchman  in  the  division  freight 
terminal  at  Elkhart,  Indiana. 

There  was  left  no  possibility  of  committing  an 
error  in  our  identification  of  him  who  had  hailed  — 
hailed  us,  at  that.  He  was  Old  Strikes  and  could  be 
none  other.  A  scarce  three  car-lengths  away  he  came 
running,  affording  a  clear  view  of  his  person.  He 
was  viciously  whirling  overhead  a  short  span  of  heavy 
dog  chain.  To  insure  its  presence  under  all  circum- 
stances, this  chain  was  securely  fastened  to  his  right 
wrist.  Of  all  police  representatives  abroad  in  the  land 
and  waging  a  merciless  war  against  hobodom,  Old 
Strikes  was  the  only  one  who  had  adopted  this  unique 
device  as  a  means  of  attack  and  defense.  His  selection 
of  this  distinctive  weapon  came  only  after  he  had 
personally  passed  through  a  number  of  holdups  by 
hoboes  who  —  mark  the  sting  of  complete  disgrace  — 
had  relieved  him  of  his  six-shooters  and  other  approved 
protectives. 

And  then  Old  Strikes  yelled  for  us  to  light  out. 
While  we  gazed  'at  him  for  the  moment  undecided 
which  course  to  pursue  we  noted  a  decided  slackening 
in  his  running  gait.  Fellow-tramps  had  cautioned 
us  to  beware  of  his  practice.  He  preferredly  allowed 
his  prospective  victim  to  run  away  ahead  of  him. 
This  sly  procedure  abridged  all  argumenting  and  ren- 
dered his  prey  incapable  of  offering  resistance.  Clos- 
ing in  from  the  rear,  he  would  strike  him  who  was 
fleeing  from  the  avenger  of  the  law  a  crushing  blow 
with  the  heavy  chain.  So  expert  had  he  become  by 
constant  practice  with  this,  his  favorite  weapon,  that 
never  was  a  second  stroke  required,  not  even  when  it 
came  to  an  effective  felling  of  the  burliest  of  the 
trespassers.     When  he   had  scored  the   knockout,   and 


58  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

then  only,  he  troubled  himself  to  institute  inquiries  as 
to  the  business  which  had  brought  the  *  vanquished  to 
prowl  on  the  premises  of  the  railroad. 

Despite  the  manifold  advance  information  we  had 
received  concerning  the  methods  used  by  Old  Strikes, 
we  lit  out  like  frightened  hares.  Ours  was  a  case 
of  instinctive  self-preservation,  for  it  was  the  first 
law  of  Nature  that  supplied  the  overpowering  incentive 
whkh  urged  our  feet  to  run  their  fastest  in  an  attempt 
to  score  a  getaway  where  most  hoboes  before  us  had 
miserably  failed.  Fortune  favored  our  exit!  Well 
rested  as  we  were  by  the  sound  slumber  we  had  enjoy- 
ed, we  managed  to  break  the  record  by  getting 
ahead  of  Old  Strikes  to  and  then  over  the  right-of-way 
fencing.  There  we  were  free  of  molestation  at  the 
hands  of  our  enemy,  for  the  fence  abrogated  the  rule 
of  the  wielder  of  the  dog  chain  as  his  authority  was 
strictly  demarkated  by  the  limits  of  the  property  con- 
trolled by  the  New  York  Central. 

Although  for  a  \yhile  we  were  quaking  like  aspens 
during  a  storm  from  our  fright  and  the  g^eat  exertions 
of  the  race  we  had  run,  we  quickly  returned  to  a 
normal  state  of  mind.  Then  elated  by  our  success, 
we  retaliated  by  mercilessly  gibing  Old  Strikes  on  his 
signal  failure  to  accord  us  the  treatment  which  had 
earned  him  the  nickname  he  so  well  deserved.  In  his 
helplessness  he  promised,  provided  we  placed  ourselves 
where  he  could  legally  enact  his  threat,  to  regale  us 
to  the  best  in  the  line  of  strikes  his  chain  was  capable 
of  delivering  under  his  masterly  guidance. 

We  left  the  John  Law  and  took  to  a  highway 
which  led  off  in  the  direction  of  Elkhart.  This  public 
road  closely  paralleled  the  railroad.  Perhaps  a  mile 
from   where   Old   Strikes   still   lingered   by   the   fence. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  59 


Posted  hoboes. 


60  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

keeping  an  alert  tab  on  our  actions,  a  most  comical 
sight  greeted  us.  The  highway  at  this  point  was  less 
than  a  hundred  yards  from  the  railroad  fencing.  There 
strung  out  in  a  long  line  we  saw  no  less  than  thirty 
men.  They  were  hugging  the  posts  of  the  fence,  one 
fellow  to  each  post.  Though  they  behaved  livelier 
than  an  equal  number  of  fleas,  yet  they  held  to  their 
queer  embrace  of  the  fence  supports.  Further,  while 
we  stood  amazedly  sizing  them  up,  we  could  plainly 
overhear  the  bantering  remarks  they  passed  to  each 
other  as  to  who  of  them  would  be  the  first  to  quit  his 
job.  Despite  their  jesting  and  quite  contrary  to  the 
dictates  of  common  sense,  none  of  the  post  buggers 
made  a  least  effort  to  desert  his  most  ridiculous 
position. 

Jack  London  judged  the  strangers  to  be  lunatics 
who,  so  as  to  have  them  out  of  the  way  for  the  day, 
were  allowed  to  follow  the  inclinations  of  their  unsound 
intellects. 

"Let  us  step  to  closer  quarters  for  a  better  obser- 
vation of  their  singular  antics,  A.  No.  1 !"  my  hobo  mate 
urged,  a  suggestion  to  which  I  conceded. 

Believing  that  we  were  about  to  carry  our  safety 
in  our  hands,  we  warily,  approached  the  strangely 
acting  fellows.  Nearing  their  station  by  gradual 
stages,  we  quickly  comprehended  the  aspect  of  the 
game  they  played  or,  rather,  the  one  of  which  they 
were  the  pawns.  They  were  enacting  the  role  of 
another  of  the  countless  tragedies  one  continually  en- 
countered at  almost  every  nook  and  turn  of  the  Road. 

The  unfortunates  were  trespassers  who  in  the 
course  of  the  preceding  night  were  rounded  up  by  the 
police  patroling  the  freight  terminal.  They  were 
tramps    and    out-of-wOrks   indiscriminately   taken    into 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  61 

custody.  For  the  want  of  a  more  convenient  and, 
perhaps,  less  exposed  detention  the  officers  had  taken 
recourse  to  the  right-of-way  fencing  for  herding  their 
prisoners.  With  handcuffs  the  hoboes  were  manacled 
to  the  fence  posts.  To  forestall  a  "jail  delivery,"  one 
of  each  pair  of  steel  bracelets  was  passed  through  the 
stout  wire  meshing  and  then  around  a  support  of  the 
fence.  Besides  these  whom  the  John  Laws  had 
tangled  up  with  law  and  the  fence,  not  a  soul  was  to 
be  seen.  But  while  we  studied  to  find  means  to 
liberate  the  hapless  chaps  from  their  uncomfortable 
quarters,  a  large  farm  wagon  drove  into  view. 

This  wagon  was  drawn  by  a  team  of  horses. 
When  abreast  of  where  the  hoboes  stood  staked  out 
in  the  open,  the  horses  were  allowed  to  move  the 
vehicle  at  a  very  slow  walk  only.  One  of  the  two 
occupants  —  they  were  John  Laws  as  their  subsequent 
actions  proved  —  climbed  down  off  the  wagon  and  then 
stepped  over  to  the  side  of  the  fence.  There  he  gin- 
gerly released  a  trespasser  from  a  picket  and  then 
re-adjusting  the  handcuff,  he  sent  the  unfortunate  to 
the  wagon  where  the  other  officer  saw  him  to  a  seat. 
Thus  man  after  man  was  released  from  his  awkward 
position,  one  which  with  certainty  must  have  become 
a  most  exquisite  torture  to  those  of  the  offenders  who 
since  dusk  had  decorated  the  fencing.  Soon  the  hoboes 
were  collected  in  the  wagon  which  then,  running  at 
a  smart  jog,  left  for  Elkhart,  a  distance  of  several 
miles. 

Returning  to  the  highway,  Jack  London  and  I 
resumed  our  walk.  It  was  breakfasting  time  when 
we  arrived  in  the  more  thickly  populated  suburbs  of 
the  city.  There  we  separated  to  mooch  our  morning 
meals.    Later  on  we  met  at  a  street  corner. 


62  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

When  once  more  we  were  walking  in  the  general 
direction  of  the  railroad  station,  Jack  London  regaled 
me  with  the  details  of  an  adventure  he  ran  across  while 
he  was  hunting  for  his  breakfast.  Refused  food  at 
the  doors  of  the  well-to-do  and  the  rich  and  the  very- 
wealthy  he  had  hied  himself  to  the  homes  of  folks  in 
humble  circumstances.  There  a  lady  had  in  a  friendly 
way  invited  him  to  share  the  morning  meal  of  her 
family. 

The  Samaritan  in  petticoats  was  a  poor  washer- 
woman. To  still  further  enhance  the  glory  of  her 
charity,  she  was  a  widow  who  had  six  children  left 
on  her  hands.  None  of  her  youngsters  had  arrived 
at  an  age  where  they  might  have  at  least  lessened  the 
burden  which  an  unkind  fate  had  so  heavily  thrust 
upon  the  shoulders  of  their  frail  mother.  But  on  thisi 
behalf  she  voiced  no  complaint.  She  owned  her  home, 
though  it  was  a  miserable  frame  shack.  But  it  was 
a  heaven  to  her  and  her  little  ones  as  there  they  were 
protected  from  the  landlords  who  relentlessly  hounded 
other  poor  ones  for  their  dues.  But  she  complained  of 
a  black  shadow  which  effectively  spoiled  her  life  —  an 
existence  already  so  fearfully  marred  by  hardest  toil. 
She  bittery  lamented  that  at  almost  the  same 
ratio  she  felt  her  physical  strength  waning  while 
fighting  the  battle  of  life  against  the  ever  in- 
creasing expenditures  made  necessary  by  the  natural 
growth  and  attendant  outlays  for  her  six,  from  year 
to  year  the  total  of  her  tax  assessment  was  advancing 
at  a  most  astonishing  rate.  She  could  give  no 
sound  reason  for  this  increase  of  the  general  tax  rating 
nor  the  amazingly  mounting  valuation  of  her  humble 
abode  and  that  of  the  patch  of  slum  on  which  it  stood. 
Construction  of  new  residences  and  structures  of  every 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  63 

description  was  met  with  in  every  block,  almost.  New 
suburbs  were  taken  in  annually  and  had  become  con- 
tributors to  the  tax  income  of  the  city.  Still  every 
year  had  a  larger  tax  rate  —  one  guaranteed  nevermore 
to  mount  —  and  new  taxing  schemes  and  ever  heavier 
assessments,  exactly  as  if  the  locality  suffered  in  the 
throes  of  a  great  national  calamity.  Thus  ran  the 
plaint  of  the  widow. 

There  and  then  we  had  a  hearty  laugh  at  the 
expense  of  others  —  they  who  were  encumbered  with 
real  estate  and  other  taxable  property.  We  were  of 
the  improvident.    We  were  tramps  —  just  plain  hoboes. 

Farther  on  in  the  street,  we  encountered  a  gang  of 
something  like  fifty  men  who  were  lazily  sweeping 
the  side  walks.  The  evident  dislike  these  toilers  dis- 
played for  their  task  and  their  general  down-and-out 
appearance  boded  ill  for  an  equitable  return  for  the 
wages  they  assuredly  collected  from  society  for  their 
work.  On  approaching  them,  we  saw  that  armed 
guards  were  superintending  the  street  sweepers.  Then 
we  comprehended  their  status  in  the  community. 
Local  characters  usually  managed  to  make  a  cash 
settlement  with  the  law  if  caught  in  its  toils.  Hoboes, 
homeless  and  penniless,  stoically  accepted  the  second 
choice  of  the  penalty  imposed  by  those  who  dispense 
punishments. 

Yet  farther  on  in  the  street,  we  met  another  mob 
of  twenty  street  cleaners.  And  a  city  square  beyond 
Ithem,  we  met  ten  others  of  their  kind.  They  were 
ithe  latest  captures  gathered  in  hoboland.  They  were 
marching  two  abreast  securely  shackled  with  hand- 
cuffs to  a  chain  one  end  of  which  was  held  in  tow 
by  a  policeman  who  was  assigned  to  guard  the  public 
display  of  human  wretchedness. 


64  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

On  passing  us  in  the  street  and  recognizing  us 
as  hoboes,  one  of  the  prisoners,  among  whom  were 
several  of  the  fellows  we  had  seen  handcuffed  to  the 
railroad  fence,  thrice  lifted  his  hands  in  quick  succes- 
sion. He  held  his  fingers  widely  spread.  Then  mo- 
tioning he  drew  a  circle  in  the  air.  Thus  he  signalled 
that  he  and  his  comrades-in-trouble  had  visited  with 
the  local  magistrate  who  had  sentenced  them  to  a  term 
of  thirty  days  with  the  chain  gang.  Obviously,  this 
was  the  average  allowance  the  squire  handed  out  to 
all  brought  into  his  court  on  a  charge  of  trespass. 

Fifty  plus  twenty  plus  ten  totaled  eighty  prisoners. 
Eighty  times  thirty  times  three  equaled  seven  thousand 
two  hundred  meals  which  were  to  be  consumed  by 
the  hoboes  whose  crack-brained  roaming  for  the  time 
being  was  broken  at  Elkhart.  Other  trespassers  had 
been  before  them  on  the  street  sweeping.  Again 
others  would  step  into  their  job  when  this  batch  of 
convicts  had  departed  from  Elkhart  without  a  least 
thought  of  the  heavy  expenditures  incurred  in  their 
behalf  by  the  hapless  taxpayers. 

There  is  one  successful  method  of  combating  the 
lawless  element,  and  most  effectively.  Everywhere 
self-supporting  highway  improvements,  farms  and 
workhouses  should  be  promptly  established  for  the 
reception  and  prolonged  entertainment  of  all  who  vir- 
ulently despise  honest  toil.  While  the  offenders  earned 
their  personal  keep  they  should  look  to  the  maintenance 
of  all  other  public  indigents  —  thus  eliminating  two 
expensive  luxuries  (?)  from  the  public  accounts.  Then 
only  the  day  will  dawn  when  the  widow  with  her 
babes  and  other  poor  folks  who  scraped  all  their 
days  to  have  overhead  a  roof  of  their  own  won't 
discover  that  such  possessions  have  entailed  an  ever- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


65 


lasting  financial  ''farming"  at  the  hands  of  public  ser- 
vants whom  they,  the  taxpayers,  had  placed  at  the 
helm  of  their  civic  government.* 

*If  interested  in  this  phase  of  the  Tramp  Problem,  read  "The  Ways  of  th« 
Hobo'*   by  tho  author  of  this  volume. 


66  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

OUR  NINTH  ADVENTURE 

"Deadheading  the  Deadhead." 


AT  the  railroad  station  of  Elkhart  we  boarded  the 
blind  baggage  of  a  westbound  *' Limited."  While 
this  train  steamed  through  the  freight  yard,  we 
kept  an  alert  lookout  for  Old  Strikes.  We  saw  the 
John  Law  standing  by  a  long  string  of  gondolas. 
He  espied  us  at  about  the  same  time  we  caught  sight  of 
him.  He  raised  a  hand  and  executed  motions  which 
faithfully   copied   the  task  of   the   telegraphers. 

Interpreting  the  message,  Jack  London  cried :  "Old 
Strikes"  is  going  to  queer  our  ride  by  wiring  to  the 
next  station  ahead  an  order  to  have  us  taken  in  charge 
by    the    police!" 

While  waiting  for  connections,  we  had  acquainted 
ourselves  with  the  schedule  of  the  train  we  were  to 
hobo.  The  Limited  made  but  one  stop  betwixt  Elk- 
hart and  Chicago.  The  halt  was  South  Bend.  This 
city  was  but  fifteen  miles  away,  a  most  insignificant 
distance  when  one  considered  that  soon  after  traveling 
the  length  of  the  freight  terminal  the  Limited  struck 
up  a  gait  of  better  than  a  mile  a  minute.  There  was 
no  time  to  be  squandered  if  we  desired  to  avoid  our 
arrest  at  "Studebaker  Town,"  as  the /hoboes  had  nick- 
named the  city  of  South   Bend.        ^ 

At  Elkhart,  the  division  point,  there  had  been 
a   change   of   the    engines    drawing    the    Limited.    To 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  67 

avoid  shortage  of  fuel  while  en  route  to  Chicago,  coal 
was  carried  heaped  so  high  on  the  tender  that  the 
apex  of  the  pile  was  flush  with  the  top  of  the  coaches. 
We  crawled  to  the  summit  of  the  fuel.  From  there 
we  peeped  downward  into  the  cab  of  the  engine. 
There  we  saw  that  the  engineer  was  alertly  watching 
the  track  ahead  of  the  racing  train.  The  fireman  was 
busily  working  coal  into  the  firebox  of  the  engine 
boiler.  Neither  railroader  was  attracted  from  his  de- 
votion to  his  vocation  by  our  leaping  from  the  top 
of  the  coal  pile  to  the  roof  of  the  coach  coupled 
to    the   tender. 

We  wriggled  and  crawled  on  hands  and  knees 
over  the  roofs  of  the  coaches  until  we  landed  aboard 
the  one  hooked  rearmost  in  the  train.  Fortunately, 
this  was  an  ordinary  Pullman  sleeper  having  a  reg- 
ulation vestibuled  platform.  We  gingerly  acrobated 
ourselves  to  this  platform  where  we  were  met  by  a 
reception  committee  in  the  person  of  the  flagman. 
Evidently  the  racket  we  had  raised  overhead  while 
moving  over  the  full  length  of  the  train  had  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  shack  who,  surmising  our  errand, 
had  posted  himself  on  the  rear  platform  of  the  train 
there  to  await  our  appearance.  As  it  was,  on  espying 
the  brakeman,  we  were  certain  that  we  had  landed 
from  the  frying  pan  into  the  fire.  Therefore,  really 
astonishing  was  our  surprise  when  the  railroader  made 
no  attempt  to  grab  us. 

"What're  you  doing,  guys?  Decking  my  train, 
eh?"  the  brakeman  bawled  just  as  the  engineer  was 
whistling  for  South   Bend. 

''We're  hoboing  to  Chicago,  friend!"  he  was  in- 
formed  by   Jack   London. 


68  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

"Can  you  square  yourselves  for  the  ride?"  quizzed 
the  trainman,   boldly  bidding  for  a  bribe. 

The  brakes  had  commenced  to  grip  the  wheels 
beneath  the  Pullman  —  an  indication  that  the  train 
was  approaching  the  station  limit  of  South  Bend. 
Although  neither  of  us  had  the  command  of  a  red 
cent,  I  was  fighting  for  time,  when  I  blandly  asked: 
"How  much  will  it  cost  us  to  have  you  see  us 
through   to    Chicago?" 

"Two  dollars  for  each  of  you  will  turn  the  trick  l" 
he  informed  us,  daring  to  demand  the  amount  of  first- 
class  fares   to   Chicago. 

Haggling  might  have  resulted  in  a  command 
for  a  showdown  of  our  cash,  which  order  would  have 
spoiled  every  chance  to  keep  beyond  view  of  the 
South  Bend  police.  To  avoid  any  untimely  exposure, 
I  stated  bravely :  "Lately  my  pal,  here,  and  I  have  run 
afoul  of  several  railroad  men  who  accepted  our  money 
and  then  had  us  fired  off  their  cars  by  some  other 
members  of  their  train  crew  with  whom  we  refused 
to  settle  a  second  time.  But  we  stand  willing  to 
take  you  on  your  own  terms  with  the  understanding 
that  you  won't  come  around  for  your  money  until  the 
train    enters    the    Chicago    limits." 

The  flagman  had  to  be  satisfied  with  our  offer, 
though  he  showed  unmistakable  signs  that  he  felt 
greatly  irritated  at  the  harshness  of  our  proposition. 
He  was  greedy  for  graft.  We  were  equally  anxious 
by  all  means  to  travel  past  South  Bend  as  our  cap- 
ture would  have  meant  a  return  trip  to  Old  Strikes 
and  an  unpleasantly  intimate  acquaintance  with  his 
chain. 

Opening  the  entrance  of  the  Pullman,  the  train- 
man bade  us  enter  the  car.    The  sleeper  was  a  "dead- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  ivith  Jack  London,  69 


The  flagman  was  awaiting  tis. 


/t)  From  Qoast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

head/'  as  was  termed  a  car,  coach,  engine,  employee 
or  anything  else,  for  that  matter,  traveling  "light" 
over  a  railroad  line.  Trailing  the  brakeman,  he  led 
us  forward  through  the  sleeping  car  into  the  adjoining 
one  which,  too,  was  a  deadhead.  In  this  car  our 
guardian  stopped  before  the  entrance  of  a  drawing 
room  compartment.  He  had  us  step  into  the  "private" 
apartment  and  then  took  pains  to  show  us  how  to 
bolt  the  door  so  no  unbidden  person  might  enter  the 
narrow  quarters.  He  ordered  that  we  were  to  maintain 
strictest  silence  and  then  went  his  way.  But  before 
he  stepped  from  the  car,  we  heard  him  carefully  lock 
both  the  entrances  of  the  Pullman. 

Our  man  returned  soon  after  the  express  had 
thundered  over  the  grade  crossing  of  the  Grand 
Trunk  Lines  beyond  South  Bend.  He  was  furious 
because  police  officers  had  delayed  the  train  several 
minutes  over  the  scheduled  stop  allowance.  He  ex- 
plained that  the  cops  had  met  the  train  in  response 
to  an  urgent  request  wired  in  from  Elkhart  to  arrest 
two  hoboes  who  were  seen  aboard  the  Limited.  But 
neither  the  efforts  of  the  policemen  nor  of  a  mob  of 
common  depot  pests  proved  of  any  avail  to  discover 
the    whereabouts    of    the    trespassers. 

The  brakeman  lingered  in  the  drawing  room  to 
ask  a  favor  of  us  who  virtually  were  his  prisoners. 
He  humbly  pleaded  that,  barring  himself,  under  no 
provocation  were  we  to  open  the  door  of  the  com- 
partment to  anyone.  The  discovery  of  our  presence 
in  the  drawing  room  would  have  pointed  straight  to 
himself  as  the  party  who  was  guilty  of  a  serious 
infraction  of  the  strict  railroad  discipline.  This 
might   lead   to   his   instant   dismissal  from   the   service 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  71 

of  the  company.  He  could  not  well  afford  this  dis- 
grace, so  he  feelingly  stated,  as  four  minor  children 
depended  on  his  earnings  for  their  support. 

We  promised  to  obey  his  instructions.  Obviously, 
when  too  late  to  undo  the  false  step,  there  had  come 
the  qualms  which  like  inexorable  furies  haunt  every 
conscience-stricken  soul.  In  the  instance  of  our  rear 
shack  the  afterthought  had  taken  on  the  form  of  an 
urgent  remembrance  of  the  helpless  little  ones  at 
home. 

The  Limited  had  bowled  by  La  Porte  and  Gary. 
While  the  train  was  rumbling  through  the  outlying 
suburbs  of  the  city  of  Chicago,  we  heard  some  one 
unlock,  then  open  and  shut  the  front  entrance  of  the 
Pullman.  Dull  thuds  of  footfalls  announced  that  who- 
ever had  handled  the  door  had  come  into  the  car  and 
was  walking  over  the  thick  runner-carpet  which  covered 
the  aisle.  The  thuds  abruptly  ceased  when  the  person 
reached  the  door  of  the  drawing  room  we  occupied. 

On  a  preceding  occasion  when  the  brakeman  had 
come  into  the  car,  even  before  he  stooped  in  front  of  the 
door  of  our  compartment,  he  had  loudly  announced 
his  presence.  Our  suspicion  that  all  was  not  well 
as  to  the  party  who  had  entered  was  instantly  aroused 
when  he  failed  to  proclaim  his  identity.  Furthermore, 
we  took  quick  notice  that  whoever  had  halted  before 
the  drawing  room  was  endeavoring  to  gain  an  en- 
trance to  our  quarters  by  trying  the  knob  of  the 
door.  He  repeated  the  turning  of  the  door  knob  with 
an  ever  increased  exertion  of  pressure.  Of  course, 
the  bolted  door  refused  to  budge.  Then  we  heard  the 
metalic  rattling  which  comes  with  the  handling  of  a 
bunch  of  keys.  A  key  was  inserted  in  the  keyhole 
of  the  door.     This  we  could  tell  by  the  glint  of  the 


72  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

key  heel  as  it  was  turned  in  the  lock.  Although  the 
key  admirably  worked  the  mechanism  of  the  lock, 
the  bolted  door  still  held  fast.  The  key  was  with- 
drawn and  another  one  inserted  in  its  stead.  Other 
keys  were  tried  out  until  every  key  of  the  lot  had 
had  its  inning  at  the  impossible  —  to  open  a  door 
which  was  securely  bolted  by  means  of  a  latch  fas- 
tened several  inches  above  the  knob. 

Then  a  period  of  profound  quiet  ensued.  The 
other  party  was  meditating  while  we  maintained  silence 
likewise.  Then  presently  we  were  startled  by  loud 
whistling  by  a  human  mouth.  The  sound  seemed  to 
emanate  from  within  the  limited  confines  of  the  draw- 
ing room.  So  uncannily  clear  broke  the  note  of  the 
whistling  that  we  involuntarily  moved  in  our  positions. 
This  stirring  proved  to  be  our  undoing. 

A  sharp  cry  rang  out  through  the  quietude  of 
the  Pullman.  It  was  a  shout  of  victory  let  out  in 
pure  ecstacy  by  the  stranger  who  was  abroad  in  the 
sleeper.  He  informed  us  that  he  had  whistled, 
though  this  was  an  unintentional  act  on  his  part, 
while  he  was  peeping  through  the  keyhole  trying  to 
ascertain  what  was  the  matter  that  the  door  would 
not  respond.     Then,  by  chance,  he  had  seen  us  move. 

He  continued:  "Now,  you  blinkety-blankety 
hoboes!  Instantly  open  the  door  so  that  I  may  learn 
who  permitted  you  to  get  into  this  sleeping  car,  both 
entrances  of  which  I  found  to  be  regularly  locked. 
And  don't  dare  make  any  further  monkeyshinesi 
I  am  the  conductor  of  this  train  and  promise,  unless 
you  promptly  abide  by  my  orders,  to  hammer  the 
life  out  of  you  and  then  turn  you  over  for  further 
punishment  to  the  Chicago  police!" 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  73 

Just  then  the  limited  was  flashing  past  Englewood 
Junction.  The  next  stop  was  La  Salle  station,  the 
Chicago  terminal  of  the  New  York  Central  Lines. 
As  we  were  compelled  to  admit  that  we  were  caught 
like  racs  in  a  steel  trap,  to  me  as  the  elder  member 
of  our  hobo  partnership  fell  the  dubious  privilege 
of  discovering  a  means  of  escaping  the  penalty  the 
conductor  had  threatened.  We  might  have  meekly 
surrendered  ourselves.  Logically,  this  would  have 
meant  that  we  would  have  to  make  a  clean  breast  of 
our  transaction  with  the  grafting  brakeman.  Then 
again,  we  might  have  offered  battle.  Should  we  have 
overpowered  the  railroader,  we  might  have  penned 
him  in  the  compartment  we  quit. 

Undecided  what  counsel  to  suggest,  I  quizzingly 
glanced  at  Jack  London,  to  read,  if  such  was  possible, 
the  trend  of  his  thoughts  by  the  expression  in  his 
face. 

He  had  anticipated  my  thought,  for  in  a  voice 
quivering  with  emotion,  he  whispered:  "Let  us  hold 
out  in  here  and  in  the  end  take  our  deserts  like  good 
fellows !  All  the  while  we  must  remember  that  in 
our  hands  we  hold  the  weal  or  woe  of  the  four  kidlets 
of  the   rear  shack!" 

Square  fellow  that  Jack  London  was,  and  was 
all  his  days,  he  had  pointed  to  our  proper  course.  Reach- 
ing out,  I  heartily  grasped  his  hand  in  acknowledgment 
of  approval.  No  word  was  spoken  nor  was  required 
to  be  said  in  explanation.  We  were  tramps  —  mere 
derelicts,  young  though  we  were,  who,  perhaps,  would 
never  understand  the  boundless  blessing  conferred  on  a 
'  human  being  by  the  possession  of  a  happy  home.  And 
by  the  plea  advanced  by  the  brakeman,  we  were  aware 
that  he  had  such  a  nest.     Therefore,  we  felt  it  to  be 


74  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

our    bounden    duty    to    protect    his    identity    with    all 
our   might  —  if   only   for   the   sake   of   his   little   ones. 

We  did  not  return  a  reply  nor  comply  with  the 
demand  of  the  conductor  for  the  opening  of  the  door. 
This  failure  on  our  part  resulted  in  the  railroader 
losing  the  last  bit  of  patience  he  still  retained.  He 
uttered  threat  after  threat.  Each  rank  one  was  yet 
more  rank  than  the  one  preceding  it.  Failing  with 
cursing  and  threatening  us,  he  resorted  to  diplomacy. 
This  gave  us  a  chance  to  reason  with  our  enemy.  We 
tried  to  argue  him  away  from  the  notion  that  a, 
drubbing  of  us  by  him  would  help  matters.  Instead 
of  allaying  his  insistence  that  we  unlock  the  drawing 
room,  our  temporizing  talk  brought  his  anger  to  mount 
to  an  even  more  dangerous  stage.  He  undertook  to^ 
vent  his  fury  by  raining  fist  blows  full  upon  the  door.' 
So  powerful  were  the  blows  that  the  impact  upon  the' 
door  panels  made  these  bend  beneath  his  strikes.'. 
Then  some  one  entered  the  Pullman  car. 

"Run  forward  to  the  baggage  master  and  fetch 
back  his  hatchet,  RastusI"  the  conductor  bawled,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  newcomer. 

"All  right,  capt'n"  came  the  submissive  response 
to  the  command  by  the  other  whose  broad  dialect 
betrayed  his  African  ancestry. 

The  threat  implied  by  the  request  pf  the  conductor 
might  have  been  a  bluff  to  intimidate  us.  Therefore 
we  quietly  awaited  the  next  step  he  would  take.  Dur- 
ing this  intermission,  the  expre&s  b^gan  tQ  slacktai 
its  speed.  On  raising  a  window  of  the  compartment, 
Jack  London  ascertained  that  a  train  of  another  rail- 
road, which  crossed  on  a  grade  level  with  the  tracks 
of  the  New  York  Central  Lines,  was  blocking  the 
progress  of  the  Limited.     At  this  juncture,  we  heard  a 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  75 

familiar  voice  shout  through  the  stillness  of  the  sleep- 
ing car:    "He'ah  Fve  fetched  yuh  the  hatchet,  boss  I" 

"We  had  better  open  a  lane  for  a  sudden  retreat 
from  this  drawing  room !''  groaned  Jack  London  and  the 
next  instant  I  followed  his  lead  and  began  to  squeeze 
myself  through  the  narrow  aperture  of  the  other  car. 
window  which  I  had  hurriedly  opened  for  this  pur- 
pose. Luckily,  neither  of  us  sustained  bodily  damage 
by  our  drop  from  the  slowly  moving  train  to  the 
right  of  way. 

When  the  tailend  of  the  passenger  train  rolled  by 
where  we  stood  waiting  its  passage,  we  saw  our 
brakeman  standing  in  the  vestibule  of  the  last  dead- 
head Pullman.  Flag  in  hand,  he  acted  on  the  jump 
to  protect  his  charge  against  a  rear-end  collision. 

The  flagman  espied  us.  For  the  moment  he  was 
dumbfounded  but  the  next  instant  he  made  free  use 
of  language  so  rank  as  to  exclude  its  reproduction  in 
print.  The  fellow  was  sore  —  immensely  so,  as  he  la- 
bored under  the  impression  that  we  had  deliberately 
hoodwinked  him.  This  we  had  actually  done,  as  far  as 
our  exit  by  car  window  was  connected  with  a  non- 
settlement  of  the  graft  which  he  coveted  and  for 
the  sake  of  which  he  had  taken  such  great  odds 
against  losing  his  employment  and  good  name.  Grafter 
that  he  was,  he  proved  himself  an  exact  counterpart 
of  the  others  of  his  brand,  all  of  whom  stood  with 
bad  grace  having  some  one  play  a  sharp  game  at 
their  expense. 

When  we  had  quit  the  Pullman  in  such  haste,  we 
inadvertently  came  to  new  trouble.  Through  the  city 
of  Chicago  the  tracks  of  the  New  York  Central  were 
raised  to  a  grade  which  waS  all  of  twenty  feet  above 
the  pavements  of  the  adjacent  streets.    Smooth,  pre- 


7^  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

cipitous  concrete  walls  which  bounded  and  sustained 
the  elevated  right  of  way  prevented  our  escape  into 
the  thoroughfares.  This  forced  us  to  walk  on  the 
elevated  tracks  to  the  La  Salle  Terminal,  a  distance 
we  found  to  be  nearly  a  mile. 

The  Limited  aboard  of  which  we  had  arrived  in 
Chicago,  was  yet  standing  under  the  train  shed.  Sta- 
tion employees  were  relieving  the  cars  and  coaches 
of  mail,  baggage,  express  and  other  matter.  None  of 
the  members  of  the  train  crew  who  had  brought  the 
train  to  town  were  to  be  seen.  With  their  work  of 
the  day  rounded  out,  they  had  hurried  away  to  their 
homes.  Car  inspectors  were  surveying  the  braking 
and  rolling  gears  of  the  train  equipment  and  did  not 
note  our  climbing  aboard  the  rear  Pullman.  Through 
this  deadhead  we  passed  on  into  the  adjoining  car, 
the  one  in  which  we  had  traveled  from  South  Bend. 
A  panel  of  the  door  of  the  drawing  room  was  splintered 
and  the  entrance  stood  unlatched  —  the  enraged  con- 
ductor had  made  good  that  which  we  had  lightly 
estimated  to  be  an  empty  threat. 

Most  justifiable  were  our  mutual  congratulations 
that  in  the  nick  of  time  we  had  staged  a  clean  getaway 
from  punishment.  Likewise  we  felt  greatly  elated  at 
having  manfully  shielded  the  identity  of  our  railroader 
from  whose  home  we  had  averted  a  tragedy.  But  on 
this  score  we  both  suffered  from  a  singular  aftermath 
of  our  adventure.  We  were  certain  that  on  reaching 
his  house,  the  flagman  had  regaled  his  wife  and  young- 
sters with  an  account  of  his  recent  experience  —  the 
latest  one  of  a  long  line  of  tribulations  he  had  had  with 
**bad"  tramps  who  undertook  to  hobo  his  train. 

But  such,  everlastingly,  is  the  way  of  the  world  in 
the  matter  of  according  simple  gratitude  to  benefactors  I 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  77 

OUR  TENTH  ADVENTURE 

"Sons  of  the  Abyss." 


BY  freely  making  use  of  the  facilities  afforded  by 
the  washroom  connected  with  the  La  Salle  Ter- 
minal, we  rid  ourselves  of  travel  stains.  Then  we 
set  out  to  see  the  sights  of  the  city.  There  was  a  lot 
to  be  visited  in  a  metropolis  as  large  as  Chicago.  So  ab- 
sorbing of  interest  was  our  exploring,  that  the  night 
overtook  us  almost  unawares. 

Then  we  retraced  our  steps  to  the  terminal.  It 
was  our  intention  to  hobo  from  the  city  aboard  of  one 
of  the  numerous  evening  trains  of  the  Rock  Island 
Lines.  On  arriving  in  Chicago  we  had  taken  care  to 
familiarize  ourselves  with  the  lay  of  the  railroad  depot. 
But  this  knowledge  went  for  naught  as  after  nightfall 
the  police  regulations  were  enforced  much  more  strictly 
than  those  which  prevailed  at  the  station  during  the 
daylight  hours.  After  any  number  of  futile  tries  to 
get  away  aboard  a  train,  we  were  compelled  to  remain 
trapped  penniless  by  night  in  the  populous  metropolis. 

Nevertheless,  we  did  not  falter.  We  knew  that 
every  city  held  an  *'abyss"  —  the  stamping  ground  of 
hoboes  who  voluntarily  lay  over  or,  like  us,  were 
brought  to  a  stay  by  adverse  circumstances.  On  our 
inquiry,  we  were  informed  by  a  passer-by  in  the  street, 
that  the  heart  of  the  Chicago  hobo  abyss  was  located 


78  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

but  a  short  city  block  only  from  the  stately  portal  of 
the  marble  and  granite  magnificence  of  the  La  Salle 
Terminal. 

In  1894  the  abyss  of  Chicago  reached  northward 
on  South  Clark  Street  from  the  intersection  of  this 
thoroughfare  with  La  Salle  Street.  There  the  distance 
of  several  city  squares  was  lined  with  buildings  the 
owners  or  renters  of  which  exclusively  catered  to  the 
trade  brought  to  town  or  created  there  by  the  tran- 
sient wanderers  of  hobodom  and  peculiar  to  them 
only.  Other  districts  scattered  over,  the  city  held 
the  hangouts  of  the  local  vagrant  elements  and  the 
various  subdivisions  of  the  underworld. 

Bounding  the  Chicago  abyss  within  narrow  con- 
fines, actually  it  was  the  east  side  of  the  street 
only  which  held  the  "cafes'*,  the  dime  flopping  dumps, 
the  nickel  restaurants  and  barber  shops  and  the  "mis- 
sions" patronized  by  the  uncouth  hoboes.  Across  the 
roadway,  on  the  west  side  of  South  Clark,  were  "cheap" 
stores,  the  basement  dens  of  vice  of  various  degrees 
of  viciousness  presided  over  by  slant-eyed  Orientals 
and  the  boarding  houses  and  booze  resorts  of  low-caste 
Greeks,  Sicilians  and  other  human  castaways  of  the 
nations   of  the   universe. 

Sight  hunting  had  thoroughly  wearied  us  and  to 
seek  a  spot  where  we  could  rest  for  the  night,  we  set 
out  to  explore  the  abyss.  Jack  London  proposed  that 
we  enter  one  of  the  numerous  rum  joints  and  there 
become  "chair  warmers'*  until  break  of  day  —  this 
meant  that  we  were  to  roost  astride  of  chairs. 

We  entered  the  nearest  of  the  saloons.  Eight 
drink  dispensers  held  forth  behind  a  mahogany  bar. 
The  fellows  had  a  busy  time  of  it  attending  to  the 
wants   of  their  thirsty  customers.    "Schooners"   of  a 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  79 

capacity  so  ample  that  they  readily  held  a  quart  meas- 
ure of  an  amber-colored  chemical  concoction  which 
sailed  under  the  misnomer  of  "lager  beer,"  were  the 
favorites,  by  far,  of  the  men  who  stood  lined  four- 
deep  before  the  bar  and  the  hundreds  of  others  who 
occupied  chairs  by  small  tables  which  were  placed  in 
the  spacious  lobby  of  the  saloon. 

We  noted  that  every  adult  patron  of  the  groggery 
displayed  a  most  horribly  bloated  mug.  This  con- 
clusively proved  that  it  was  not  the  roughing  of  the 
Road  but  alcoholic  excesses  which  had  marked  with 
beastly  countenances  hoboes  who  lacked  the  will  power 
to  resist  the  temptings  of  John  Barleycorn. 

The  precious  few  non-alcoholic  wanderlusters 
whom  I  ran  across  in  my  world-wide  roamings,  all 
had  regular  features.  To  cite  an  excellent  example: 
there  is  Jeff  Davis,  him  of  the  Hotels  de  Gink  and 
renowned  as  an  anti-hobo  lecturer,  who  today  is  as 
refined  of  face,  speech  and  manner  as  he  was  when 
some  twenty  years  ago  I  met  him  while  we  were 
hoboing  in  Kentucky. 

Although  it  was  quite  late  in  the  night,  every 
"Alcohol  Blossom"  was  wide  awake.  Those  of  them 
who  were  occupying  the  chairs  and  were  not  yet  too 
deep  in  their  cups,  were  passing  the  time  by  recounting 
incidentals  of  the  vag  business  they  had  worked  out 
during  the  day.  Not  a  word  of  clean  adventure  we 
heard  referred  -bo  in  conversations  which  brimmed  with 
vile  slang,  foul  language  and  revoltingly  immoral  re- 
partee. 

But  no!  Near  the  aisle  where  we  stood  studying 
this  scene  of  utmost  human  corruption,  there  sat  one 
lusher  who  had  drowsed  away  in  his  chair.  A  pro- 
fessional bouncer  in  the  employ  of  the  rummery  noted 


80  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

the  snoozing  patron  —  he  who  while  asleep  was  not 
wasting  his  substance.  With  a  short  but  heavy  length 
of  garden  hose  the  slugger  struck  the  sleeper  a  sound- 
ing whack  which  sent  the  maudlin  fellow  spinning 
from  the  chair.  Rising  to  his  feet,  the  drunkard  re- 
monstrated against  the  uncalled-for  brutality  practiced 
on  a  fellow  who  had  spent  his  last  cent  in  the  place. 
He  was  promptly  rewarded  for  his  objection  by  being 
bounced  into  the  street.  As  we  had  witnessed  enough 
depravity  in  the  short  moment  we  had  lingered  in  the 
groggery,  we,  too,  left  the  hoboes*  retreat. 

The  victim  of  the  slugger  had  fallen  prone  upon 
the  side  walk.  Bleeding  from  numerous  abrasions,  he 
painfully  staggered  to  his  feet.  Steadying  himself  a 
bit,  he  accosted  a  lady  passing  in  the  street  for  the 
price  of  —  a  meal.  Fearing  to  refuse  the  drunken  beg- 
gar, she  handed  him  a  coin.  But  he  did  not  seek 
a  restaurant;  instead  he  returned  into  the  HelFs  Half 
Acre  from  which  he  was  bodily  kicked  so  recently. 
There  the  parasite  invested  in  alcohol  the  pittance  of 
the  sympathetic  woman. 

Unwilling  to  become  a  prey  of  John  Barleycorn 
and  his  minions,  we  turned  to  seek  refuge  for  the 
night  at  the  doss  houses  which  abounded  in  the  abyss. 
At  every  place  we  applied,  we  were  bluntly  refused 
the  privilege  of  performing  chores  in  payment  of  a 
"chair"  lodging. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  abyss  we  encountered 
another,  of  the  numerous  "missions"  —  establishments 
that  were  the  rankest  graft  of  them  all  as  their  pro- 
fessional begging  was  skillfully  shrouded  with  the 
cloak  of  charity  and  religion.  Passages  copied  from 
the  Holy  Writ  were  plastered  in  lurid  colors  on  the 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


81 


:rhc  Abyss   of  Chicago, 


82  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

window  panes  of  the  church  (?).  Also,  there  was  a 
lamplit  sign  which  advised  that  for  a  dime  a  flop 
might    be    bought. 

"Here's  the  place  where  we  won't  be  refused  a 
stay  until  morning!"  happily  cried  Jack  London  as 
he  led  the  way  into  the  mission  the  interior  of  which 
stenched  heavenward  even  more  nauseatingly  than  had 
the  other  hell  holes  of  the  abyss. 

Hoboes,  packed  like  bloaters  in  a  box,  were 
stretched  out  in  sleep  upon  the  bare  floor  of  the 
place.  That  the  tramps  preferred  to  rest  like  so  many 
swine  upon  the  hard  boards  and  without  a  shred  of 
covering,  indicated  the  awful  conditions  which  prevailed 
in  all  the  other  doss  houses  of  the  abyss. 

**You  have  no  money,  eh?"  lazily  drawled  the 
clerk  who  had  charge  of  the  lair  for  vagabonds,  when 
he  had  wearily  listened  to  our  explanation  how  it  came 
to  pass  that  we  were  strapped  of  funds.  **It's  against 
my  strict  instructions  to  accomodate  folks  who  haven't 
got  the  small  price  we  ask  for  our  lodgings.  But  you 
look  like  a  pair  of  healthy  lads!  What's  the  matter 
with  you  'throwing  your  feet'  and  tackling  pedestrians 
for  your  needs?" 

The  public  practice  of  mendicancy,  which,  by  the 
way,  is  the  most  shameless  of  the  manifold  degradations 
of  which  humanity  is  heir,  was  so  lightly  thought  of 
by  the  peeudo  ^'churchman,'*  that  he  frankly  suggested 
to  us  its  application.  Caught  as  we  were  in  a  financial 
pijich,  we  accepted  the  lure. 

Back  in  the  street  we  went  and  there  accosted  for 
alms  every  pedestrian.  As  might  be  expected,  in  the 
end  we  struck  a  wrong  steer  ^— London  panhandled  a 
plainclothes  officer  who  put  a  stop  to  our  operations 
by  ordering  us  to  vacate  the  thoroughfare. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  83 

Returning  to  the  mission,  we  reviewed  our  exploit 
to  the  shark.  Pickings  were  poor  at  midnight  in  the 
abyss  of  Chicago,  we  complained,  when  Eighteen  cents 
represented  the  gathering  of  an  hour.  As  it  was,  we 
were  but  two  cents  short  of  the  regulation  stipend,  still 
the  marble-hearted  wolf  in  lamb's  skin  refused  to  lodge 
us. 

Crestfallen  we  quit  the  hobo  sty.  Standing  on 
guard  at  a  nearby  corner,  we  espied  the  detective  who 
had  routed  us.  His  presence  precluded  collecting  the 
pennies  we  lacked.  Just  then,  and  only  a  few  blocks 
away,  the  train  of  an  elevated  railroad  passed  overhead 
of  South  Clark  Street.  The  passage  of  the  cars  pointed 
out  an  avenue  of  escape  from  the  sleeping  city. 

We  went  to  the  nearest  station  of  the  elevated 
railroad  and  invested  in  fares.  Five  cents  each  brought 
us  eight  miles  to  the  end  of  the  line  of  the  ''West  Side 
Elevated."  This  was  Oak  Park  whence  it  was  but 
a  short  step  to  where  we  crossed  the  city  boundary  of 
Chicago.  There  beyond  the  police  lines  of  the  metrop- 
olis we  camped  by  a  fire  which  we  had  built  in  a 
thicket  adjacent  to  the  right  of  way  of  the  Chicago  & 
Northwestern  Railroad. 

Peacefully  sleeping  upon  the  damp  ground  by  the 
side  of  the  glimmering  smudge,  we  rounded  out  the 
day.  As  this  was  the  case  with  all  our  preceding  days, 
so  the  most  notable  memory  of  this  day  was  the 
circumstance  that  we  had  lived'  through  another  span 
of  twenty-four  hours  without  paying  the  final  toll 
of  the  Road  —  which  was  to  be  maimed  or  be  mur- 
dered by  cither  the  cars  or  pur  fellows. 


84  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

OUR  ELEVENTH  ADVENTURE 

"The  Rule  of  Might." 


AT  break  of  dawn  we  walked  to  Maywood.  Thence 
we  rode  the  gunnels  of  a  commuter  train  to  West 
Chicago.  Here  all  freight  trains  halted  for  fuel 
at  a  coal  chute  located  a  mile  or  so  from  the  passenger 
station.  Near  the  coal  chute  was  a  small  country 
store  and  having  need  of  matches  we  stopped  there 
to  beg  a  supply. 

The  store  keeper  favored  our  request.  But  of 
all  owners  of  stores  either  Jack  London  or  I  recalled 
to  have  met  in  our  time,  none  was  worse  afflicted  with 
inquisitiveness,  the  common  failing  of  their  class. 
That  we  were  strangers  in  the  neighborhood  all  the 
more  whetted  his  curiosity  to  know  more  about  our- 
selves. He  led  off  with  interrogating  us  concemmg 
our  points  of  departure  and  destination.  Then  he 
shunted  his  attention  to  an  inquiry  whether  we  had 
mastered  a  legitimate  trade  or  approved  profession. 
Other  questions  followed  in  rapid  succession.  Their 
scope  covered  a  vast  range  of  subjects.  As  he  had 
favored  us  with  a  gift  of  matches  we  answered  him  in 
accordance  with  the  dictates  of  prudence.  Finally, 
when  his  native  curiosity  was  satiated,  we  ventured  to 
ask  for  information  as  to  when  a  train  might  be  expected 
to  halt  at  the  coal  chute. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  85 

'Then  you're  going  to  sneak  your  fares!  This 
means  that  you're  vagranting  tramps,  trespassers  who 
aimlessly  chase  over  the  land!"  venomously  snarled 
the  store  keeper. 

"We're  out  looking  to  find  employment,  sir!"  re- 
plied Jack  London,  in  an  attempt  to  temporize  with 
the  stranger. 

"That's  the  one  excuse  advanced  by  every  hobo 
stopping  at  the  coal  intake,  which  is  a  natural  hangout 
for  his  kind!"  he  stormed,  acting  as  if  pur  affairs 
needed  his  supervision. 

This  accusation  was  so  just,  that  we  were  making 
ready  to  beat  a  disgraceful  retreat  from  his  place  of 
business,  when  the  native  yelped:  "Many  years  before 
I  opened  this  general  merchandise  store,  I  traveled 
very  extensively  in  the  United  States  and  Canada.  Yet 
I  never  had  to  descend  to  the  low  level  of  the  hobo; 
on  the  contrary,  I  always  settled  my  fare  like  a  gentle- 
man and  only  stopped  at  first-class  hotels  V 

"This  must  have  cost  you  a  heap  of  money,  sir?" 
I  querried,  presuming  the  store  owner  in  his  day  to 
have  been  a  man  of  ample  means. 

"I  earned  a  fine  competence  while  I  enjoyed  the 
sights  of  the  continent!"  he  snapped,  at  the  same  time 
treating  us  to  a  contemptuous  stare. 

"And  your  recipe?"  chimed  my  mate,  all  agog  to 
hear  how  the  trick  was  accomplished. 

"I  disposed  of  patent  medicine  by  the  gallon!"  he 
gleefully  ejaculated. 

"Is  such  peddling  so  profitable,  sir?"  I  broke  in, 
unaware  that  the  stuff  would  yield  a  sufficient  revenue 
to  balance  the  expense  account  of  even  the  most  stingy 
of  the  commercial  hustlers  —  men  notoriously  generous. 


S6  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

"I  dealt  in  seven  different  brands  of  elixirs  and 
sold  the  goods  in  shape  of  a  complete  home  treatment 
guaranteed  to  cure  every  form  of  human  ill  —  if  the 
folks  took  the  dope  long  enough.  Buying  the  medicine 
at  v^holesale  each  set  stood  me  at  eighty-four  cents. 
I  created  business  by  hunting  out  the  sick  and  afflicted 
and  others  whom  I  induced  to  believe  that  they  v^rere 
liable  to  die  the  death  of  a  dog  unless  they  immediately 
invested  seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents  for  a  home  treat- 
ment of  bottled  colored  water  and  crocked  tallow. 
Women  with  sick  babies  and  widows  recently 
bereaved  of  their  supports,  were  by  far  my  best 
customers!"  the  store  owner  confessed,  speaking  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way  that  was  meant  to  still  further 
glorify  the  bottomless  meanness  of  his  imposition. 

"And  it  was  you  who  dared  to  register  exceptions 
against  us  homeless  hobo  wanderers !  You,  who  to  this 
day  believe  it  to  be  a  highly  honorable  act  to  callous- 
ly dupe  sick  and  heart-sick  unfortunates!"  I  cried  out 
in  wrath. 

The  ex-quack  promptly  proved  himself  to  be  an 
even  worse  moral  degenerate  than  we  had  already 
judged  him  to  be  by  his  admissions.  Instead  of  curtly 
ordering  us  to  vacate  the  store  or  going  for  us  in 
the  manner  of  a  man  who  was  offended  by  insult,  the 
coward  sneaked  towards  the  rear  end  of  the  store 
to  where  he  had  a  telephone.  Then  he  held  a  conver- 
sation of  which,  though  he  spoke  in  a  subdued  voice, 
we  caught  a  sufficiency  to  forewarn  us  against  our 
danger.  The  rascal  was  pleading  with  some  one  to 
hurry  to  his  place  of  business  where,  so  he  complained, 
two  tramp  desperadoes  were  threatening  his  life.  Even 
while  the  fellow  gave  this  foul  message  to  the  wire, 


From  Coast  to.  Coast  with  Jack  London.  87 

we  backed  from  his  store  and  then  looked  for  an  abrupt 
getaway  from  the   locality. 

As  we  passed  the  coal  dock  we  were  stopped  by  a 
laborer  who  asked  for  a  pipeful  of  tobacco.  This  led 
on  to  our  inquiry  as  to  what  sort  of  citizen  was  the 
store  keeper  with  whop  we  had  visited. 

"A  clever  kind  of  a  chap  who  knows  how  to  make 
use  of  his  tongue  to  best  personal  advantage!'*  laughed 
the  coal  shoveler.  ''But  he's  got  a  deuce  of  a  brother 
who  is  our  local  deputy  sheriff.  If  anyone  does,  it's  he 
who  knows  how  to  handle  hoboes.  Whenever  the 
flock  of  bums  waiting  at  this  chute  to  take  trains  be- 
comes too  numerous  or  boisterous  for  our  comfort,  we 
step  over  to  the  store  and  phone  for  him  to  come  and 
clean  up  a  bit.  Judge  Middleton  appreciates  the  ability 
of  the  deputy  so  well,  that  he  always  allows  him  to 
state  the  term  that  the  prisoner  must  serve  at  the 
county  workhouse  which  is  located  at  Geneva,  some 
six  miles  west  of  here  on  the  Northwestern  and  ". 

**Come  along.  Jack,  we  have  no  time  to  waste!"  I 
excitedly  yelled,  while  I  pushed  my  mate  ahead,  thus 
cutting  short  the  flow  of  gab  of  the  coal  heaver  who 
unawares  had  revealed  matters  of  far  reaching  impor- 
tance for  our  personal  safety. 

We  kept  on  the  right  of  way  of  the  railroad  until 
a  curve  placed  viS  beyond  the  arc  of  vision  of  the  men 
at  the  coal  chute.  Then  in  a  straight  line  from  the 
tracks  we  struck  out  overland.  Only  when  we  had 
placed  miles  between  ourselves  and  the  railroad  with- 
out our  exit  being  interfered  with,  we  began  to 
breathe  more  easy  iox  we  felt  secure  from  colliding  with 
not  only  the  John  Law  who  lorded  it  over  West 
Chicago  but  also  those  of  a  similar  calling,  who,  so 
we  had  every  reason  to  fear,  might  be  waiting  to  tender 


88 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


us  a  rough  reception  at  Geneva  —  and  a  term  in  a  work- 
house is  no  fun. 

We  continued  southward  until  we  came  to  the 
city  of  Aurora.  Thence  we  hoboed  the  Burlington 
Route.  Beyond  the  Mississippi  River  we  had  arrived 
outside  the  direct  jurisdiction  of  the  state  of  Illinois 
where  we  had  learned  that  there  were  fellows  abroad 
roaming  over  the  land  whose  sharp  practices  were 
scarcely  approached  by  what  the  hoboes  had  to  offer 
in  the  line  of  outright  cussedness  —  no,  not  even  by 
the  most  accomplished  of  the  vagabonds. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

OUR  TWELFTH  ADVENTURE 

"Prowlers  of  the  Night." 


THE  day  was  another  most  inclement  one.  While 
we  were  about  the  Burlington  (Iowa)  Yard  of  the 
Burlington  Route  and  there  looking  to  make  con- 
nections, somehow  we  managed  to  stow  ourselves  away 
aboard  the  wrong  train.  We  wanted  to  hobo  to  Omaha. 
Instead  we  were  well  on  our  way  to  Saint  Paul  when 
towards  dusk  we  discovered  the  great  error  we  had 
committed  in  our  routing.  The  freight  had  stopped 
at  a  city.  As  we  had  missed  every  meal  of  the  day, 
we  felt  quite  inclined  to  let  the  train  go  hang  while  we 
issued  forth  from  our  box  car  to  hunt  provender.  As 
charity  always  shines  at  its  best  during  the  preval- 
ence of  bad  weather,  we  easily  supplied  our  needs. 
Then  we  returned  to  the  railroad  depot,  to  find  that 
in  the  meanwhile  the  train  had  departed  hence.  This 
unpleasantness,  after  all,  proved  a  veritable  windfall. 
While  we  were  rummaging  about  the  station  for  a 
lounging  nook,  we  learned,  and  then  only  by  a  merest 
chance,  that  we  had  traveled  to  Cedar  Rapids.  Con- 
sequently, we  had  come  a  hundred  miles  from  the 
general  direction  of  the  trip  we  had  intended  should 
land  us  at  Omaha. 

Outdoors  the  rain  kept  on.  This  brought  us  to 
the  decision  to  camp  until  morning  at  the  railroad 
depot.  But  a  telegrapher  who  was  in  the  station 
office,  must  have  divined  our  intentions.    Scarcely  had 


90  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

we  stretched  ourselves  comfortably  on  benches  in  the 
waiting  room,  than  he  was  up  and  after  us  with  orders 
to  find  other  lodgings. 

Cedar  Rapids  citizens  were  served  by  four  trunk 
line  railroads  the  depots  of  which,  by  chance,  had 
been  placed  in  close  proximity  to  each  other.  From 
the  station  of  the  Burlington,  Cedar  Rapids  &  Northern, 
by  which  we  had  come  to  town,  it  was  but  a  step  to  the 
one  of  the  Chicago  &  Northwestern  Railroad.  But 
here  eastbound  passenger  trains  timed  to  arrive  in 
Chicago  in  the  morning  and  westbound  ones  which  had 
left  that  city  during  the  evening  were  due  to  stop 
at  almost  every  hour  of  the  night.  This  meant 
a  lot  of  local  interchange  of  traffic  that,  in  turn,  would 
give  rise  to  no  end  of  disturbances  which  would  ser- 
iously interfere  with  the  presence  of  "bench  floppers.*' 
Furthermore,  on  account  of  the  rain,  a  swarm  of  blue- 
coats  had  scurried  to  the  depot  for  shelter.  And  no 
John  Tramp  would  dare  hunt  peaceful  sleep  where 
John  Law  was  abroad  under  the  same  roof. 

Diagonally,  almost,  across  the  tracks  from  the 
Chicago  &  Northwestern  platform  was  the  depot  of 
the  Illinois  Central.  With  the  exception  of  the  station 
office,  the  depot  structure  was  darkened.  In  the  office 
we  saw  a  fellow  poring  over  bulky  ledgers.  Soft- 
stepping  about  the  platform,  we  discovered  that  one 
of  the  doors  leading  into  the  waiting  room  had  been 
overlooked  by  whoever  attended  to  the  locking  of 
the  entrances.  Our  glee  proved  to  be  premature  how- 
ever, for  when  we  shut  the  entrance  after  we  had  sneak- 
ed indoors,  it  creaked  and  so  called  the  attention  of  the 
railroader  to  our  intrusion.  This  worthy  raised  the 
ticket  window  and  threatened  to  call  in  the  police  if 
we  did  not  instantly  vacate  the  waiting  room. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


91 


Unwelcome  visitors. 


92  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

Nearby  was  the  fourth  of  the  Cedar  Rapids  group 
of  railway  depots.  This  station  was  that  of  the  "St. 
Paul  Road."  Taking  care  of  this,  our  last  chance 
for  a  depot  flop,  we  observed  every  possible  pre- 
caution against  detection.  Of  all  good  fortunes! 
When  we  peeped  into  the  lamplit  office  of  the  station, 
we  noted  that  the  man  in  charge  was  stretched  out 
in  sleep  upon  a  table.  Further,  we  found  every  door 
of  the  waiting  room  to  be  standing  ajar.  Profiting 
by  our  late  experience,  we  noiselessly  slipped  within 
doors  and  then  occupied  benches.  Soon  afterwards 
we  became  unconscious  in  slumber. 

Just  once,  I  was  aroused  by  the  passage  of  one  of 
the  freight  trains  which  rumbled  past  on  the  nearby 
tracks.  Again,  a  boisterous,  rasping  snoring  that  em- 
anated from  the  station  office  harried  my  rest.  And, 
finally,  I  was  awakened  by  an  unearthly  yell  from 
Jack  London  whom  I  saw  wildly  jumping  from  his 
bench  and  then  taking  after  a  large  dog  who  did  not 
wait  for  further  experience  with  my  mate's  boots  but 
fairly  flew,  all  the  while  yelping  his  worst,  from  the 
waiting  room. 

The  disturbance  roused  the  telegrapher  from  his 
snooze.  Even  more  awake  than  we  had  become  in 
a  trice,  he  tore  ajar  the  door  leading  from  the  office 
into  the  waiting  room.  When  he  saw  that  we  had 
not  waited  on  orders  but  were  quitting  the  room  with- 
out a  special  invitation,  he  contented  himself,  after 
we  had  left,  with  making  the  round  of  the  doors  each  one 
of   which   he    carefully   locked. 

Jack  London  and  I  groped  through  the  downpour 
until  we  ran  across  an  open  box  car.  Only  when  we 
had     crawled     under     shelter,     I     took     occasion     to 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  93 

soundly  berate  him  for  having  so  effectively  spoiled  our 
last    depot    lodgings. 

"You  wouldn't  have  done  differently,  A.  No.  1!" 
he  sharply  returned  "I  was  dreaming  that  I  had  safely 
arrived  home  from  this  hobo  trip.  No  wonder  then, 
held  as  I  was  in  the  thrall  of  the  pleasant  dream,  that 
when  the  dog-beast  began  to  lick  my  face,  I  believed 
this  to  to  be  a  part  of  the  regular  program  of  reception. 
Then  the  kissing  became  so  persistent  that  it  took 
my  breath  away,  and,  naturally,  I  awoke.  The  mo- 
ment I  clapped  my  eyes  on  the  brute,  I  realized  that 
I  had  become  the  victim  of  an  animated  nightmare  and, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  I  landed  with  my  boots  on  the 
miserable  hound!" 

"Why  should  a  cur  want  to  lavish  affections  on 
you  who  are  a  tramp?"  I  wondered  aloud,  most  dis- 
pirited by  the  continued  disrupting  of  our  night's  rest. 

While  Jack  London  wiped  his  face  with  a  hand- 
kerchief which  he  had  allowed  to  become  saturated 
with  the  rain,  he  groaned:  "At  the  residence  where 
I  stopped  for  supper,  they  served  country  sausage  —  the 
home-made  brand,  fried  to  a  turn.  As  you  well  know, 
no  hobo  is  ever  invited  to  wash  himself  after  he  had 
dined  at  a  private  home.  Led  on  by  his  sharp-sensed 
nose  and  a  hankering  for  the  rare  treat  I  had  enjoyed, 
the  dog  believed  it  to  be  his  proper  office  to  undertake 
the  lacking  service  by  way  of  licking." 

Although  feeling  quite  ill-at-ease  at  the  cleansing 
given  to  his  countenance  by  the  vagrant  cur.  Jack 
London  most  heartily  joined  me  in  laughing  which 
we  intermittingly  kept  up  until  despite  our  water- 
logged garments  we  fell  fa%t  asleep. 


94  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


OUR  THIRTEENTH  ADVENTURE 


'Bad  Bill  of  Boone." 


THE  weather  moderated  while  we  were  away  in 
Slumberland.  When  the  rain  broke,  the  John 
Laws  set  out  to  earn  their  salaries.  Searching 
through  the  railroad  yards  for  available  "court  cases,"  a 
detail  of  the  cops  stirred  us  up.  On  the  spot  they  sub- 
jected us  to  a  cross-examination.  So  very  plausible  was 
the  tale  of  woe  we  recited  for  their  especial  attention, 
that  they  allowed  us  to  return  to  the  box  car. 

But  oil  and  water  won't  mix.  Neither  would  hobo 
trust  bluecoat.  The  average  span  of  life  allotted  by 
the  Road  to  its  devotee  was  an  entirely  too  short  one 
for  the  hobo  to  accept  verbal  guarantees  of  immunity 
from  arrest  if  advanced  by  a  uniformed  minion  of  the 
law.  Endless  practical  experience  had  inexorably 
taught  John  Bum  to  be  chary  of  John  Law  and  most 
especially  of  the  uniformed  brand.  Therefore,  we  were 
but  heeding  a  natural  instinct  of  distrust  when  we 
surreptitiously  deserted  our  retreat  the  moment  we 
felt  assured  that  the  "uniform  bulls"  had  vacated  the 
immediate    vicinity. 

In  response  to  an  ugly  feeling  of  uneasiness,  we 
walked  from  the  city.  We  had  marched  but  a  few 
miles  on  the  railroad  track,  when  the  rain  storm  re- 
vived and,  at  that,  with  doubled  fury.  While  we 
painfully  splashed  onward  through  the  absolute  dark- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  95 

ness,  we  solemnly  vowed  to  ourselves  not  to  leave  afoot 
the  next  railroad  stop,  whatever  its  importance.  This 
was  Fairfax,  a  community  so  very  lean  in  population 
that  no  police  cared  to  headquarter  there  to  earn  a 
living  by  enforcing  the  ordinances  of  the  law  at  so 
much  cash  per  diem  or  for  each  case  brought  to  trial 
and   conviction. 

A  depot  pest  acquainted  us  with  this  welcome  bit 
of  local  news.  In  reciprocity,  we  revealed  to  him  the 
vow  we  had  registered  ere  we  struck  Fairfax.  Our 
peddling  of  confidences  proved  an  outrageous  blunder. 
The  two-legged  '^Dispatch"  lost  no  time  in  repeating  our 
information  to  his  friend,  the  station  agent.  They  got 
into  an  argument.  Fanned  on  by  some  idle  remark, 
perhaps,  their  discussion  waxed  heated.  The  quarrel 
ended  with  the  station  agent  oflFering  to  bet  the  depot 
loafer  that  we  would  not  leave  town  aboard  a  train  — 
not  while  he,  the  agent,  was  on  the  job.  The  station 
fly  accepted  the  challenge  and  backed  his  conviction 
with  hard  cash. 

It  was  no  time  ere  the  word  had  gone  forth  among 
the  remainder  of  the  populace  of  what  had  occurred  at 
the  depot.  To  properly  prime  themselves  for  the 
round  of  gossipping  bound  to  ensue  from  the  affair, 
the  natives  hurried  to  the  station  platform  to  collect 
items  at  first  hand.  They  volubly  interviewed  us. 
But  while  they  merely  came  to  substantiate  first  re- 
ports, new  arguments  sprung  up.  Other  bets  were 
posted.  In  the  end  everybody  from  kid  to  patriarch 
was  gambling  hard  and  heavy  on  the  outcome  of  our 
visit 

In  accordance  with  their  personal  beliefs,  the 
inhabitants  of  Fairfax  separated  into  two  factions. 
This    separation    resulted    in    a    rush    to    the    North- 


96  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

western  depot  by  members  of  the  opposing  canips 
whenever  a  train  was  heard  to  toot  its  whistle.  They 
came  to  guard  against  eventualities  should  a  train 
come  to  a  halt.  In  that  instance,  they  who  had  backed 
our  exit  from  town  by  train  busied  themselves  to  fur- 
ther our  departure.  Their  opponents  were  no  less 
industrious.  They  snitched  on  our  whereabouts  to 
the  train  crew  whom  they  plied  with  cigars  and  other 
subtle  inducements  to  have  our  sojourn  extended 
indefinitely. 

It  was  a  lusty  game  of  chance  which  the  Fair- 
faxers  had  improvised  at  our  expense!  In  the  begin- 
ning our  novel  adventure  proved  a  huge  round  of  fun 
and  entertainment.  The  natives  fairly  vied  with  each 
other  in  seeing  us  supplied  with  every  reasonable  com- 
fort. But  after  a  bit  that  which  at  first  we  had  con- 
sidered the  grandest  sort  of  treat,  steadily  began  to 
assume  the  ugly  aspect  of  an  intolerable  nuisance. 
Obviously,  we  were  confronted  with  a  first  rate  show 
of  terminating  our  days  as  communal  prisoners  of 
Fairfax. 

Then  the  "Overland  Limited"  made  a  hSlt  at  the 
station.  Never  before  had  this  crack  train  stopped 
at  the  "jerkwater"  community.  The  notable  event 
brought  the  citizens  of  the  burg  swarming  to  the  train 
side.  There  they  lent  willing  help  with  the  cooling 
of  the  "hot  box"  which  had  necessitated  the  breach 
of  schedule. 

While  the  folks  of  Fairfax  were  furnishing  the 
train  crew  with  lots  of  water  and  free  advice,  Jack 
London  and  I  seized  the  opportunity  for  the  staging  of 
our  getaway  afforded  by  the  spell  of  local  excitement. 
We  tarried  on  the  track  ahead  of  the  engine  which 
hauled   the   Limited.     When   we   thought   the   time   to 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  97 

be  drawing  nigh  that  the  heated  axle  was  again  in 
shape  for  a  resumption  .of  the  journey  by  the  train, 
we  climbed  aboard  the  pilot  of  the  engine.  Thence 
we  crawled  beneath  the  overhang  of  the  boiler  exten- 
sion. There  hidden  from  view  of  the  engine  crew, 
we  lay  when  we  scored  our  exit  by  train  from  Fairfax. 

With  a  full  head  of  steam  pumping  the  cylinders 
of  the  locomotive,  the  engineer  sent  the  belated  train 
scooting  over  the  rails.  When  traveling  "on  time" 
the  express  made  stops  at  both  Belle  Plaine  and  Mar- 
shalltown.  This  day  we  went  like  a  greased  streak  of 
lightning  by  these  important  points  and  all  other 
stations    on   the    line. 

The  first  stop  of  the  Overland  Limited  was  Boone, 
the  division  point.  It  was  one  hundred  and  twenty 
miles  from  Fairfax  to  this  city  which  had  gained  no 
end  of  notoriety  among  the  tramp  fraternity  as  the 
headquarters  of  "Bad  Bill."  This  worthy  was  an  active 
member  of  the  Boone  police  department.  At  the 
hands  of  the  Brethren  of  the  Road  he  had  come  to 
his  nickname,  on  account  of  his  anti-hobo  activities. 

Eastbound  train  bummers  whom  we  had  met  en 
route,  had  everlastingly  precautioned  us  against  an 
encounter  with  the  relentless  persecutor  of  our  clan, 
He,  so  the  scared  fellows  advised,  made  it  an  obliga- 
tion always  to  be  on  guard  for  trespassers  at  Boone 
station  on  the  arrival  and  the  subsequent  departure 
of  all  passenger  trains.  Because  of  this  information, 
we  were  satisfied  that  where  we  lay  so  fully  exposed 
to  public  view,  we  had  not  one  chance  in  a  million 
to  escape  arrest  by  Bad  Bill  of  Boone.  This  meant 
a  drawing  down  of  a  stiff  penalty. 

Bey<)nd  Ames  there  was  a  curve  in  the  right  of 
way.     While   the   engine   was   yet  ranging  around   the 


98  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

farther  end  of  this  turn,  to  our  indescribable  terror 
we  saw  where  but  a  few  rods  beyond  the  point  of 
the  pilot  a  heavily  loaded  farm  wagon  was  standing 
straight  in  the  path  of  the  speeding  Overland  Limited. 
An  instant  survey  of  the  environs  disclosed  where 
at  a  safe  distance  from  the  right  of  way,  a  farmer 
was  having  the  time  of  his  life  trying  to  hold  in 
check  a  pair  of  wildly  prancing  work  horses.  The 
traces  of  this  team  were  disorderly  trailing  along  the 
ground.  This  fact,  the  frightened  animals  and  other 
telltales  told  the  story  of  what  had  come  to  pass. 

The  weighty  farm  wagon  had  become  wedged 
between  the  rails  at  the  road  crossing.  Warned  of 
his  danger  by  the  roar  of  the  swiftly  oncoming  train, 
the  agriculturist  had  hurriedly  unhitched  the  horses 
from  the  stalled  vehicle.  By  promptly  guiding  the 
animals  beyond  harm^s  way,  the  man  had  saved  the 
team   from   sharing  the   disaster  about   to   be   enacted. 

A  fraction  of  an  instant  —  and  the  collision  of  the 
onrushing  Overland  Limited  with  the  farm  wagon 
was  a  matter  of  history.  Driven  on  by  the  titanic 
force  created  by  the  momentum  of  its  immense  tonnage, 
the  passenger  express,  racing  at  topmost  speed,  had 
rammed  the  comparatively  light  vehicle  and,  of  course, 
had  smashed  it  into  a  mass  of  wreckage. 

The  engineer  slammed  on  the  brakes.  Having 
brought  the  train  to  a  standstill,  he  came  forward  to 
inspect  the  damage.  Only  then  he  became  aware  that 
he  had  carried  two  hoboes.  We  were  pinioned  under 
the  boiler  overhang  by  jammed  debris.  By  a  miracle, 
neither  of  us  had  sustained  injury,  none  whatever.  The 
engine  pilot,  now  shattered  beyond  all  possibility  of 
reprair,   had    saved   us   from   seemingly   inevitable    des- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  99 

truction.  The  cowcatcher  had  hoisted  the  farmer's 
wagon  against  the  front  of  the  boilerhead  and  high 
above  where  we  had  hid. 

Members  of  the  train  crew  and  passengers  who 
had  come  forward  assisted  in  affecting  our  release.  We 
could  readily  tell  by  his  demeanor  that  the  engineer 
was  furious  with  anger.  Of  all  unpleasantnesses  a 
railroader  most  hates  to  be  reminded  that  a  hobo  had 
successfully  bummed  his  train.  But  for  the  presence 
of  the  passengers,  the  locomotive  driver  with  certainty 
would  have  wreaked  his  vengeance  on  us  who  in  full 
view  of  everybody  with  eyes  to  see,  had  traveled  astride 
the  cowcatcher  the  full  len^h,  almost,  of  the  division. 

"Who  told  you  rascals  to  ride  on  the  pilot  of  my 
engine?"  growled  the  engineman,  when  we  had  been 
extricated  from   the   wreckage. 

"How  many  miles  is  it  from  here  to  Boone,  sir?" 
I  countered  his  question  by  asking  one. 

"Less  than  six  miles!"  volunteered  a  mail  clerk, 
hearing  my  inquiry. 

"Then,  sir,  today  we  have  cause  to  be  threefold 
obliged  to  you  for  service  rendered.  You  have  saved 
us  from  dying  a  natural  death  at  Fairfax,  an  artificial 
one  in  this  smash-up  and,  best  of  all,  from  running 
afoul  of  Bad  Bill  of  Boone!"  I  gayly  shouted  over 
my  shoulder  at  the  engineer  while  Jack  London  and 
I  made  haste  to  vamoose  from  the  landscape  ere  the 
conductor,  who  was  on  his  way,  had  joined  the  group 
of  our  rescuers. 

"Poor  fellows!  The  accident  must  have  dethroned 
their  understanding !"  we  overheard  the  train  news  agent 
express  himself  while  we  were  clambering  to  the  other 
side  of  the  railroad  fencing. 


100  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

A  highway  we  followed  led  on  to  Boone.  While 
on  the  way,  we  made  inquiries  concerning  the  local 
police  activities.  We  heard  a  lot  more  of  the  won- 
derful doings  with  which  Bad  Bill  was  credited  to  the 
detriment  of  the  hobo  tourists.  What  we  were  told 
not  only  made  us  even  more  "leary"  of  our  man,  but 
also  instilled  us  with  a  yearning  to  have  a  squint  at 
the   notorious   hobo   snatcher. 

Landing  at  Boone,  we  drifted  to  the  railroad  sta- 
tion. The  eastbound  Overland  Limited  was  due.  We 
were  told  that  Bad  Bill  was  abroad  in  the  waiting 
room.  There  we  found  him  surrounded  by  a  gang 
of  boys  and  men.  He  was  entertaining  them  with 
experiences  of  his  career.  This  held  his  undivided 
attention  and  allowed  us  a  close  approach. 

Bad  Bill  was  a  wiry  built  chap  of  medium  height. 
His  cap  and  coat  appeared  more  in  need  of  soap  and 
repair  than  were  similar  garments  worn  by  the  seediest 
dressed  of  the  tramps.  Diametrically  counter  to  what 
we  had  been  told  to  be  his  disposition,  we  found  him 
to  be  most  jovially  inclined.  Today,  his  sunny  dis- 
position actually  seemed  to  be  brimming  overfull.  The 
contents  of  a  telegram  had  much  to  do  with  his  burst 
of  jollity.  He  was  passing  this  dispatch  to  the  round 
of  his  admirers  and  where  we  stood  inconspicuously 
mingled  with  the  crowd  the  paper  came  to  us  for 
perusal. 

The  message  nad  come  to  the  Boone  police 
authorities  from  Carroll,  a  town  located  fifty  miles 
to  the  west.  It  held  the  announcement  that  on  passing 
through,  a  hobo  was  seen  to  straddle  the  blind  baggage 
of  the  eastbound  Overland  Limited.  Whoever  was 
the  spotter  of  the  unsuspecting  fellow,  he  had  staged 
for  him  a  warm  reception  at  Boone. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  101 

To  Bad  Bill  was  assigned  the  task  of  nabbing 
the  free-lance  tourist.  This  was  in  accordance  with 
an  unwritten  rule  strictly  observed  at  headquarters, 
as  in  this  branch  of  police  work  the  officer  was  firmly 
believed  to  stand  without  an  equal  in  the  land. 

The  valiant  cop  took  to  disguise.  He  laid  aside 
his  nobby  uniform  and  donned  the  delapidated  outfit 
he  was  now  wearing.  Then  he  hurried  to  the  Northwest- 
ern station  to  meet  the  train.  While  he  was  impatient- 
ly waiting  for  the  deadhead  to  come  in,  he  was  enter- 
taining the  crowd  with  snatches  of  his  personal  exper- 
ience in  connection  with  the  taking  of  hoboes  from 
trains. 

"Wasn't  you  ever  afraid  to  tackle  a  hobo,  sir?" 
weakly  wheezed  one  of  the  sallow-faced,  cigarette- 
sucking  youths  who  were  among  the  most  interested 
of  the  officer's  auditors.  ^ 

"The  word  'afraid'  was  never  put  in  the  dictionary 
for  my  attention !  The  hobo  who  will  undertake  to 
best  me,  isn't  born  yet,  sonny!"  bragged  the  John  Law 
who  had  Boone  by  the  heels.  "I've  got  a  regular  'lead 
pipe  cinch'  on  the  grabbing  of  the  onery  scamps.  The 
defiant-acting  of  the  small  fry  I  collar  by  the  nape 
of  their  necks  and  then,  like  so  many  rats,  I  shake 
them  into  meek  submission.  The  burly  and  rowdy 
I  behammer  with  my  boots  and  fists  until  they  howl 
their  willingness  to  comply  with  my  orders,  see?" 

The  eastbound  Overland  was  heard  rumbling  in 
the  distance.  The  whistle-signaling  of  its  engineer 
for  the  yard  limits  of  Boone,  furnished  an  inspiration 
to  Bad  Bill.  He  invited  all  who  cared  to  witness  at 
firsthand  the  actual  taking  of  a  hobo,  to  follow  him 
to  the  train  side.  To  a  man  we  scurried  after  the 
officer  who  led  us  across  the  tracks  beyond  the  main 


102  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

line  of  the  Northwestern.  There  he  distributed  us 
so  none  of  us  would  miss  a  least  incident  of  the  pro- 
ceedings about  to  ensue. 

The  Overland  Limited  pulled  up  to  the  platform. 
Standing  at  full  height  upright  on  the  blind  baggage 
of  the  mail  car,  we  espied  the  hobo  for  whom  the  Law 
was  laying.  He  was  built  of  such  magnificent  physical 
proportions  that  his  bulk  would  have  easily  made  two 
men  of  the  size  of  Bad  Bill.  The  smoke-begrimmed 
fellow  acted  most  nonchalantly.  He  took  no  notice 
whatever  of  our  presence.  He  seemed  to  desire  to 
create  the  impression  that  instead'  of  his  being  a  trav- 
eling lawbreaker  he  was  a  person  of  national  renown 
who  had  condescended  to  pay  a  state  visit  to  the 
Boonites. 

Ere  the  train  had  come  to  full  halt,  Bad  Bill 
commenced  our  initiation  in  the  craft  of  hobo  grabbing. 
He  swung  upon  the  lowest  of  the  steps  leading  up  to 
the  platform  occupied  by  his  nibs,  the  hobo.  The 
officer  bellowed  a  peremptory  demand  to  hear  by 
whose  permission  the  stranger  was  traveling  aboard 
the  train  by  a  method  universally  deemed  to  be  an 
illegal  procedure.  The  tramp  contemptuously  ignored 
both  the  inquiry  and  the  man  who  had  asked  the 
information. 

Of  all  things,  the  stranger  could  not  well  have 
selected  a  more  stinging  affront  to  Bad  Bill  than  to 
treat  this  particular  John  Law  with  an  insolent  ignoring 
of  his  presence.  Exactly  like  a  vast  majority  of  the 
lesser  lights  connected  with  the  police  calling,  Bad 
Bill  was  thoroughly  obsessed  with  the  lunatic  notion 
that  the  respect  which  in  reality  the  "citizens"  accord- 
ed to  him  as  the  representative  of  the  law,  was  rendered 
in  humble  tribute  to  and  as  a  testimony  of  his  vast 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  103 


*How  dare  you,  sir?"  shrieked  the  station  agent. 


104  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

superiority,  in  both  person  and  personality,  above  the 
"common  herd." 

Instantly,  almost,  fury  uncontrollable  was  plainly 
depicted  by  the  expression  which  appeared  in  the  face 
of  Bad  Bill.  The  next  moment  saw  him  mounting  to 
the  platform  of  the  mail  car.  Then  without  waste  of 
words,  he  headlong  sailed  into  the  haughty  vagabond. 
In  all  his  living  days  the  officer  never  committed  a 
worse  error  than  when  he  undertook  to  bodily  punish 
the  burly  offender.  He  came  to  his  Waterloo  at  double- 
quick.  He  received  in  return  a  telling  blow  for  every 
one  that,  because  of  his  shorter  -  reach,  fell  short  of 
landing  on  his  hobo  opponent.  Becoming  warmed  up 
to  the  scrap  which  had  been  forced  on  him,  the  Wan- 
dering Willie  promptly  adopted  the  lead  in  the  pummel- 
ing.  Sure  hitters  and  hard  landers  were  the  strikes 
he  liberally  doled  out,  and  then  by  making  use  only 
of  his  open  hands,  as  we  noted  with  greatest  amaze- 
ment. In  no  time,  almost,  he  had  Bad  Bill  laid  out  in 
unconsciousness. 

When  the  train  had  come  to  a  complete  standstill, 
the  conqueror  of  Bad  Bill  dragged  the  limp  form  of 
the  vanquished  officer  to  the  depot  platform  and  then 
in  through  an  open  door  leading  into  the  station  office. 
To  the  infinite  dismay  of  the  station  agent  and  his 
sniffy-faced  crew  of  assistants,  the  fellow  deposited  his 
human  burden  in  the  center  of  the  office  floor. 

This  uninvited  proceeding  proved  entirely  too 
strong  for  the  nerves  of  the  agent,  for  he  angrily 
shrieked:  "How  dare  you  plank  down  this  drunk 
in  here,  my  private  room,  sir?" 

*T  am  quite  sure  this  depot  loafer  tackled  the 
wrong  man  when  he  tried  to  teach  me  the  first  railroad 
commandment :  Thou  shalt  not  trespass*,"  lightly  laugh- 


From  Coast. to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  105 

ed  the  big  bruiser  who  was  laboring  to  restore  the 
senses  of  his  victim,  ignoring  the  sharp  remark  of  the 
agent. 

"But  you're  in  the  wrong!  This  isn't  a  bum.  It's 
Bill  Sanders,  one  of  our  Boone  policemen!"  corrected 
one  of  the  clerks  who  had  identified  the  prostrate  form. 

"And  who  are  you  that  you  dared  to  down  our 
'Bad  Bill/  as  we  locally  know  him  best?"  the  stranger 
was  challenged  by  a  telegrapher. 

"But  recently  I  was  appointed  division  detective 
with  headquarters  at  Denison.  I  took  after  a  hobo 
who  attempted  to  bum  the  Overland  Limited.  While 
I  routed  the  trespasser  off  the  coaches,  the  train 
had  gained  headway  so  rapidly  that  I  did  not  care 
to  incur  the  great  risk  of  jumping  to  the  ground.  Nor 
did  I  wish  to  delay  the  train  by  stopping  it.  I  came 
on  to  Boone  where  I  was  troubled  by  this  character 
who  tried  to  read  me  the  riot  act!"  declared  the 
newcomer  who  produced  credentials  which  verified 
his  official  connection  with  the  Chicago  &  North- 
western. 


4  4'T^^^  ^^^t  ^^^  th®  crowd  is  on  me  boys!"  whiQ,e4 
I       Bad  Bill  when  on  regaining  the  full  use  of  his 

•*•  intellect  the  various  incidents  of  the  fracas 
were  exhaustively  explained  to  him  by  the  railroad 
sleujth. 

When  a  messenger  had  retumied  with  a  box  ol 
smokes,  Sanders  personally  sav/  to  the  distribution  of 
the  cigars.  He  joined  in  the  smoking  and  the  laughing 
—  both  at  his  expense  —  by  the  others.     Later  on  rail- 


106 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


road  sleuth  and  city  cop  quit  the  station  arm  in  arm. 
They  were  trailed  to  police  headquarters  by  a  motley 
mob  who  went  to  hear  one  more  repetition  of  how 
the  John  Laws  came  to  battle  to  a  decisive  knockout. 
In  the  meanwhile,  Jack  London  and  I  hung  to 
the  neighborhood  of  the  railroad  depot.  Properly  post- 
ed as'  we  were  on  the  whereabouts  of  the  two  enemies 
we  had  most  to  fear,  we  boldly  hoboed  the  first  passen- 
ger train  leaving  Boone  and  unmolested  traveled  to 
Omaha.  While  on  the  way,  we  derived  pleasurable 
entertainment  from  the  working  out  of  the  excuse 
Bad  Bill  had  to  offer  to  his  so  oddly  acquired  friend 
—  he  who  had  so  niftily  blackened  both  his  eyes  and 
land- wide  reputation  —  of  how  it  came  to  pass  that 
there  was  an  audience  at  hand  and  that  two  of  the 
otherwise  terribly  shocked  auditors  had  vociferously 
applauded  the  going-down  in  complete  defeat  of  the 
star  hobo  snatcher  of  Boone.  And  the  two  who  had 
so  savagely  appreciated  the  spectacle  were  us  —  Jack 
London  and  yours  truly. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  107. 

OUR  FOURTEENTH  ADVENTURE 

"Old  Jeff  Carr  o£  Cheyenne/' 

NIGHT  had  shrouded  the  landscape  of  Nebraska 
when  we  strayed  into  the  thoroughfares  of  the 
city  of  Omaha.  We  were  penniless  —  a  chronic 
condition  which  never  worried  hobodom.  Accosting 
passers-by  in  the  street  for  the  price  of  a  flop,  some 
one  referred  us  to  a  "Workingman's  Home." 

Both  Jack  London  and  I  had  quite  frequently 
stopped  at  a  ''home"  or  "barrack"  of  this  sort.  They 
were  to  be  encountered  in  every  large  city.  Commonly 
they  were  presided  over  by  a  superintendent,  usually 
a  suavely  spoken  chap-of-the-world.  The  superintend- 
ent, quite  often,  was  a  proprietor  of  the  doss  house 
the  revenues  of  which  paid  him  a  fat  salary.  This 
income  was  derived  by  furnishing  a  "police-proof"  sty 
to  hoboes.  Ofttimes  a  dive  and  groggery  was 
had  in  connection  with  the  lodgings. 

Knowing  the  kind  of  reception  which  awaited  all 
comers  without  funds,  while  we  were  on  our  way  to 
the  home  we  showed  foresight  by  panhandling  enough 
alms  to  meet  the  price  of  the  kippings.  But  we  found 
the  place  to  be  in  a  class  all  its  own.  Spick  and 
span  with  cleanliness  the  institution  was  a  credit  to 
Omaha. 

At  the  home  we  bumped  into  Stiffy  Brandon,  he 
who  had  rascally  decamped  with  our  belongings.  No, 
he  did   not  threaten   to   sweep   the   floor  of  the  doss 


108  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

joint  with  us  in  repayment  o£  the  mauling  we  had 
administered  to  him  at  the  Schenectady  water  plug. 
Contrariwise,  he  performed  this  task  by  means  of  a 
regulation  broom.  This  indicated  that  he  had  accepted 
public  employment  —  he  was  an  apostate  of  hobodom 
as  he  had  broken  the  tenet  of  the  Road  which  proscribed 
manual  tasks  as  the  worst  possible  disgrace  to  be 
incurred  by  a  hobo. 

Despite  our  scowls  at  his  breach  of  the  sacred 
tramp  tradition,  Stiffy  Brandon  good-naturedly  grinned 
at  us  when  we  had  called  his  attention  to  our  presence. 
Then  he  greeted  us  and  did  so  in  a  spirit  of  cordiality. 
Without  waiting  for  our  invitation,  he  voluntarily  ac- 
counted for  his  abandonment  of  the  Wander-Path. 

While  bent  on  meeting  us,  Stiffy  Brandon  had 
come  to  Omaha.  There  he  had  found  his  way  to  the 
'*Workingman*s  Home."  Confessing  himself  without 
funds,  the  superintendent  not  only  provided  him  with 
a  free  lodging  but  also  with  needed  meals.  In  the 
morning,  as  this  was  the  superintendent's  wont  to  do 
with  fundless  customers,  he  was  lectured  to  on  the 
endless  wrong  of  the  damnable  hobo  existence.  The 
words  of  him  who  understood  the  lack  of  will  power 
in  the  other,  struck  a  responsive  chord  in  the  soul 
of  Brandon.  The  tramp  volunteered  to  mend  his  ways 
—  some  day.  Well  aware  that  promises  were  readily 
broken  if  made  under  the  stress  of  a  fleeting  emotion 
of  repentance,  the  good  man  offered  to  give  employ- 
ment to  the  contrite  fellow.  A  better  job  was  promised 
when  the  erstwhile  yegg  had  proven  that  he  had  con- 
quered the  curse  which  had  made  of  him  a  football 
of  Satan.  Thus  ran  the  revelation  of  Stiffy  Brandon 
who  then  resumed  the  task  he  had  neglected  to  visit 
with  us. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  109 

Current  magazines  and  newspapers  lay  scattered 
over  the  table  which  graced  the  center  of  the  lobby. 
Jack  London  and  I  took  chairs  by  the  table.  Both 
were  scanning  the  contents  of  the  evening  dailies,  when 
we  heard  a  soft  whistling.  Noting  that  it  was  Bran- 
don who  had  whistled  to  attract  the  attention  of  young 
London,  I  held  aloof  to  await  developments.  When 
I  saw  my  hobo  mate  leave  his  chair  to  meet  the 
ex-tramp,  I  made  believe  to  be  yet  intent  on  studying 
the  columns  of  the  newspaper  screened  behind  which 
I  was  taking  observations. 

"Although  Stiflfy  Brandon  has  temporarily  changed 
his  vocation,  he's  still  up  to  hobo  meannesses !"  I  mused 
aloud  when  I  saw  the  two  put  their  heads  together, 
believing  the  fellow  was  about  to  snare  my  companion 
and  then  break  faith   with  his  benefactor, 

"There  isn't  a  darn  thing  but  misfortune  to  be 
gained  by  anybody  on  the  Road.  The  sooner  you 
understand  this  outcome  of  your  loafing  over  the  land, 
a  confounded  nuisance  to  everybody,  the  quicker  will 
you  beat  a  bee  line  to  where  you  belong  by  rights,  kid !" 
preached  Brandon  to  the  wayward. 

In  this  way  his  talk  went  on  until  brought  to  an 
abrupt  termination  by  the  clerk  in  charge  of  the  office 
who  took  exception  to  the  fraternizing  of  the  employee 
with  a  guest  of  the  doss  dump.  All  the  while  the 
reformed  wanderluster  was  addressing  himself  to  my 
pal,  I  held  the  peace.  Words  like  his,  coming  as 
they  did  from  a  wakened  conscience,  had  the  vital  ring 
of  truth  which  was  totally  lacking  in  the  pratings 
against  the  Road  by  folks  who  had  come  to  their 
knowledge  of  its  harmfulness  either  by  hearsay  or 
superficial  investigation. 


110  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

Traveling  beyond  Omaha  we  left  aboard  a  box 
car  over  the  Union  Pacific  System.  We  held  down 
this  car  for  three  hundred  miles  beyond  the  Missouri 
River  where  hunger  compelled  us  to  break  our  trip 
at  North  Platte,  the  division  point.  The  racket  we 
raised  while  departing  from  our  hiding  place,  brought 
us  to  the  attention  of  a  yard  watchman.  But,  wonder 
of  wonders,  though  he  frisked  the  contents  of  our 
pockets  for  contraband  articles,  he  failed  to  place  us 
under  arrest.  Further,  a  queer  creature  we  judged  him 
by  reason  of  this  unheard-of  act,  the  officer  congratulated 
us  on  hoboing  into  town  on  another  day  than  Monday. 
When  we  acted  surprised,  he  explained  matters.  So  lim- 
ited was  the  capacity  of  the  local  lock-up  and  so  exceed- 
ingly heavy  was  the  hobo  patronage  burdening  North 
Platte,  that  the  fathers  of  the  town  had  set  aside  Monday 
for  the  weekly  "loading"  of  the  calaboose.  Consequent- 
ly, after  Monday  for  the  rest  of  the  week  there  was  no 
cause  for  the  grabbing  of  Box  Car  Willies.  Therefore 
we  not  only  went  scot-free  but  also,  what  of  our  good 
fortune,  were  the  recipients  of  heartiest  congratulations 
by  the  sleuth,  who  for  all  that,  eyed  us  very  savagely. 

Eighty  miles  westward  we  came  to  Julesburg.  We 
had  so  timed  our  arrival  at  this  junction  point  where 
a  tap  line  branched  southward  to  Denver,  that  we 
landed  after  nightfall.  Forewarned  of  a  deputy  sheriff 
who  held  high  carnival  at  Julesburg  at  the  expense  of 
trespassers,  for  the  time  being  our  scare  proved  ground- 
less. Our  enemy  was  on  the  sick  list  and  was  unable 
to  attend  to  his  vocation.  Perhaps  his  tribulation 
saved  us  from  becoming  guests  of  the  municipality 
which  in  connection  with  a  bread  and  water  diet  main- 
tained a  rockpile  for  the  entertainment  of  lawless 
transients  picked  up  by  the  deputy  officer. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  Ill 

Thence  we  rambled  on  to  Cheyenne.  Again  we 
were  cautioned  to  beware  of  getting  in  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  law.  At  a  grade  some  miles  from  the 
capital  of  Wyoming  we  quit  the  cars  and  walked  to 
the  city.  This  was  the  sufficient  cause  for  our  *'safety- 
first"  precaution:  Old  Jeff  Carr  headquartered  at 
Cheyenne.  His  was  the  reputation  of  being  the  rail- 
road sleuth  most  violently  execrated  by  all  of  hobodom. 
None  excelled  him.  Only  the  "Nigger  of  Galesburg," 
a  colored  man  who  was  a  yard  watchman  of  the  Bur- 
lington Route,  "Big  Four  Brim"  of  Mattoon,  Illinois, 
"Pap  Papineau"  and  "Roughy  Caruthers"  both  with 
the  New  York  Central  and  stationed  at  Cleveland, 
Ohio,  and  Erie,  Pa.,  respectively,  approached  Jeff  Carr 
for  dare-devil  fearlessness  in  combating  the  vicious 
element  of  the  hoboes. 

In  his  day,  Old  Jeff  Carr  had  served  a  term  as 
the  high  sheriff  of  Laramie  county,  of  which  the  city 
of  Cheyenne  is  the  county  seat.  Likewise,  he  had 
filled  no  end  of  other  offices,  civic  and  public,  in  tes- 
timony of  the  highest  esteem  in  which  he  was  held  by 
his  fellow-citizens.  But  from  that  day  in  1890  whereon 
he  entered  the  police  department  of  the  Union  Pacific 
System  really  dated  the  stranglehold  on  the  affection 
of  his  fellow-citizens  which  he  faithfully  maintained 
until,  ripe  in  years  of  life  and  ^ch  in  honors,  he  died 
a  natural  dea-th  in  1916.  An  estimate  of  the  extent 
of  Carr's  service  migiit  be  ^garnered  from  data  kicidly  fur- 
nished the  author  by  the  present  dbietf  of  police  of  Chey- 
enne :  no  less  than  ten  thousand  tramp  criminals  who, 
freely  mingling  with  the  hoboes,  patronized  the 
main  route  of  transcontinental  vagabond  travel,  were 
brought  to  justice  by  Old  Jeff  Carr. 


112  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

"Buffalo  Bill"  and  "Old  Jeff  Carr"  were  the  two 
citizens  of  the  west  most  prominent  in  the  limelight 
of  public  attention.  Their  careers  were  an  open  study 
for  all  concerned.  However,  there  was  a  vast  difference 
betwixt  the  manner  of  reverence  accorded  to  each  by 
those  personally  most  interested  in  keeping  tab  on  the 
affairs  of  these  national  characters.  Folks  fairly  fell 
over  each  other  to  pay  homage  to  Buffalo  Bill.  On 
the  other  tack,  Wandering  Willies  scattered  like  chaff 
before  the  wind  to  avoid  contact  with  Old  Jeff  Carr. 
'  The  famous  railroad  detective  catered  to  a  personal 
hobby.  Although  he,  who  was  a  six-footer,  never 
toted  a  revolver,  he  had  a  hankering  to  collect  shooting 
irons  personally  taken  by  him  from  the  pockets  of 
hoboes.  Among  railroaders  there  is  afloat  a  good 
story  best  illustrative  of  what  manner  of  man  was 
Old  Jeff  Carr  and  those  he  went  after  in  the  name 
of  law  and  order. 

Word  was  wired  in  from  Sidney,  Nebraska,  that 
a  mob  of  starving  "out-of-works"  had  taken  forcible 
possession  of  an  empty  box  car  in  a  freight  train  bound 
for  Cheyenne.  Making  use  of  his  handpower  track 
speeder,  Carr  met  the  train  some  miles  beyond  the 
city  limits.  He  climbed  into  the  car  box  pre-empted 
by  the  "workingmen"  who  acted  and  looked  every  whit 
capable  of  tearing  to  pieces  any  soul  daring  to  interfere 
with  their  plans. 

"I'm  your  friend  Old  Jeff  Carr,  boys!'*  thundered 
the  ctfficer,  "anid  the  faster  you  face  towards  the  sides 
of  this  car  and  then  stretch  your  arms  ceilingward,  the  less 
likely  you  will  be  of  receiving  right  here  the  thprough 
thrashing  you  ought  toVe  got  when  first  the  crazy  notion 
entered  your  numb  skulls  that  trespass  laws  were  passed 
to  be  brutally  ignored  by  the  likes  of  you  !" 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  113 

Following  suit  to  his  warning,  the  sleuth  collared 
a  burly  bum  who,  glowering  his  fiercest,  stood  within 
handiest  reach.  Perhaps  of  all  humanity,  hoboes  were 
the  ones  who  most  disliked  to  endure  a  sound  trouncing. 
Aware  of  the  foremost  trait  of  the  men  he  dealt  with, 
the  detective  had  correctly  judged  his  chances  of  mak- 
ing the  bald  bluff  protect  him  from  coming  to  harm. 
Neither  was  it  necessary  to  lambast  the  animated  rag 
bundle  he  had  grabbed  hold  of  nor  to  apply  a  similar 
persuasive  to  obtain  the  obedience  of  his  companions. 
The  mere  announcement  of  who  he  was  sufficed.  As 
if  actuated  in  this  by  common  impulse,  straight  over- 
head went  all  hands  while  their  owners  meekly  faced 
towards   the    sides   of   the   car. 

An  inspection  by  Old  Jeff  Can*  of  the  pockets 
of  the  "laborers"  produced  most  astonishing  returns. 
From  the  belongings  of  the  thirty  vags  who  were  in 
the  car,  twenty-two  six-shooters  were  extracted  to  be 
added  to  Carr's  collection  of  concealed  weapons  taken 
from  "harmless'*  wayfarers  who,  supposedly,  would  not 
hurf  J,  baby.  With  the  help  of  the  trainmen  the  human 
rattlesnakes  were  knocked  off  the  car.  Then  the  train 
resumed  its  trip. 

Downtown  we  ran  against  a  landmark  of  Cheyenne. 
This  was  the  notorious  "Silver  Dollar"  saloon. ,  The 
dram  shop  derived  its  classy  distinction  from  the  fact 
that  silver  dollars  were  cemented  in  a  snug  cavity  left 
for  the  insertion  of  one  of  the  coins  in  the  center  of 
each  of  the  porcelain  tiles  of  ,which  the  floor  of  the 
lobby  and  the  sidewalk  fronting  the  saloon  were 
constructed. 

To  us  the  silver  dollars  underfoot  proved  an  at- 
traction almost  irresistible.  All  through  the  long  day 
we  were  dragged  by  slow  freight  from  Julesburg  with- 


114  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

out  having  tasted  a  mouthful  of  food.  And  we  had 
finished  one  hundred  and  forty  miles  by  walking  from 
the  railroad  grade,  a  distance  of  eight  miles  and  a  fine 
appetizer.  Our  hike  had  led  through  a  section  where 
persistent  panhandling  had  brought  no  reward  what- 
ever. And  now  when  it  was  quite  late  in  the  night, 
a  time  when  battering  for  alms  was  at  its  worst, 
we  were  completely  fascinated  by  the  lure  of  the 
shiny  dollars  we  found  planted  without  guard  in  the 
public  thoroughfare. 

We  promptly  realized  that  the  possession  of  a 
single  one  of  the  hundreds  of  dollars  we  saw  wantonly 
placed  underfoot,  would  have  purchased  several  sub- 
stantial feasts  for  us  poor  devils  who  were  famishing. 
We  took  note  that  the  streets  were  empty  of  pedes- 
trians, though  everywhere  saloons,  restaurants  and 
gambling  hells  were  running  at  full  blast.  Not  even 
a  snooping  bluecoat  was  in  sight.  The  lay  of  the 
game,  therefore,  augured  so  well  that  we  decided  to 
become  acquainted  with  the  good  cash  which  in  the 
starlight  of  the  night  was  so  temptingly  spread  out 
for  our  abstracting. 

Using  our  pocjcet  knives  each  of  us  tackled  one  of 
the  shiners.  We  dug  aad  pried  away  endeavoring 
to  lift  the  dollars  from  their  receptacles.  But  the 
cement  with  which  the  coins  were  fastened  had  become 
as  adamant  as  granite.  The  blades  of  Jack  London's 
knife  snapped  off  slaort.  All  the  blades  but  one  of 
my  knife  had  been  sacrifice  tp  'gammon  when  t±ie 
dollar  I  wa^  after  came  ivom  its  setting. 

Scarcely  had  I  extracted  the  coin  frpm  its  resting 
place  in  the  tile,  when  we  heard  some  one  shout: 
"Come  in  here,  lads!  The  'Silver  Dollar'  will  stand 
the  treat  of  the  crowd!    IBut  you  might  have  saved  all 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  115 


/"ST^J/^ 


We  appropriated  one  of  the  dollars, 


116  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

concerned  a  lot  of  trouble  had  you  applied  at  the  bar 
for  your  needs  of  the  dollars  of  which  we  always  keep 
on  hand  an  ample  stock  for  free  souvenirs  to  whoever 
cares  to  ask  for  them  I" 

Glancing  about  to  locate  the  speaker,  we  were 
dumbstruck  with  shame  when  we  became  aware  that 
it  was  the  bartender  of  the  groggery  who  had  addressed 
us.  In  company  with  patrons  he  had  quietly  stepped 
before  the  entrance  of  the  dram  shop.  The  keen  inter- 
est displayed  by  these  spectators  and  their  beaming 
countenances  best  proved  how  well  they  enjoyed  our 
burgling  operations. 

To  vastly  add  to  our  discomfiture,  we  espied  a 
bluecoat  swinging  into  the  street  from  around  a  nearby 
comer.  Fearing  arrest,  we  did  not  wait  for  orders  to 
quit  the  locality. 

The  dollar  we  had  appropriated  was  another  suf- 
ficient incentive  for  a  sudden  removal  of  our  persons 
beyond  the  clutches  of  the  John  Law  who,  suspicion- 
ing  our  motive,  had  taken  after  us  who  ran  for  dear 
life  to  avoid  the  serving  of  a  prison  term  for  the 
coin.  We  struck  an  air  line  to  the  railroad  tracks 
where  the  police  officer  continued  otir  chase  until  he 
had  driven  us  well  beyond  the  city  limits. 

While  we  executed  the  fast-clip  getaway  from 
arrest,  we  dropped  the  trade-mark  of  the  "Silver 
Dollar"  saloon.  Its  weight  was  hampering  our  flight 
from  our  pursuer.  Truthfully  stating,  we  lost  nothing 
worth,  while  when  we  generously  shed  ourselves  of 
the  trouble-maker  —  which  was  a  silver-plated,  cast-iron 
rqjroduction  of  the  dollar  of  the  realm. 


From  Cvast  to  Const  with  Jack  London.  117 


OUR  FIFTEENTH  ADVENTURE 


'^Sidetracked  in  the  Land  of  Manna.' 


LEAVING  Cheyenne  to  the  rear,  we  walked  imto 
the  night.  It  was  an  up-hill  hike  in  a  double 
sense  —  we  were  walking  on  empty  stomachs 
and  climbing  the  steep  grade  which  continued  skyward 
all  the  way  to  the  Continental  Divide.  By  break  of 
day  we  had  come  nineteen  miles  to  Granite  Canyon. 
There  the  lady  of  the  section  house  provided  us  with 
a  stack  of  hot  cakes  in  return  for  supplying  her  with 
a  stack  of  kindlings.  Not  knowing  when  a  train  would 
make  a  halt  at  the  flag  stop  of  a  station,  we  resumed 
our  march.  So  crooked  was  the  right  of  way  of  the 
Union  Pacific  that  we  substantially  shortened  the 
mileage  by  tacking  across  the  country.  At  Sherman's 
Cut,  eight  thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  we  reached 
the  continental  apex  where  one  stream  flows  eastward 
to  the  Atlantic  and  another  westward  to  the  Pacific. 
Right  beyond  Sherman  Tunnel  was  Tie  Siding  where 
we  blackened  the  kitchen  range  of  the  station  agent 
for  a  flop  overnight.  In  the  morning  we  rambled  by 
train  to  Laramie,  the  division  point. 

Beyond  Laramie  was  a  howling  desert  and  wilder- 
ness. Fortunately,  we  made  fast  time  over  the  high 
plateau  which  stretched  westward  from  the  Rocky 
Mountains  through  to  the  Sierra  Nevada.  At  Green 
River  a  switchman  who  chanced  to  hear  our  urgent 


118  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

cries,  which  we  had  kept  up  for  many  hours,  rescued 
us  from  the  firebox  of  a  deadhead  engine  the  door  of 
which  had  swung  shut  soon  after  we  had  crawled 
within  at  Rawlins.  Onward  we  rambled  until  we 
arrived  in  Utah,  the  stronghold  of  the  Mormons. 

At  Ogden  after  dark  we  hid  ourselves  in  a  box 
car  loaded  with  paving  brick.  To  insure  against  inter- 
ference with  our  ride  while  we  were  crossing  the 
Great  American  Desert,  a  passage  most  dreaded  by 
hoboes,  we  piled  so  many  of  the  weighty  bricks  against 
the  doors  of  the  car  which  we  had  shut,  that  no  rail- 
roader could  possibly  have  moved  them  a  fraction  of 
an  inch  —  not  even  a  graft-greedy  shack. 

The  freight  train  made  excellent  progress.  On 
awakening  in  the  morning  we  believed  the  train  to  be 
still  running  at  better  than  fifty  miles  an  hour.  We 
gauged  the  rate  by  the  usual  method  employed  by 
tramps  who  quickly  became  expert  in  estimating  speed 
by  the  jolting  of  the  car  they  were  hoboing. 

"Let's  see  if  we  passed  Montello  and  have  entered 
the  state  of  Nevada,  Jack!"  I  said,  greeting  my  hobo 
mate  when  the  wild  pitching  of  the  car  prevented 
further  sleep. 

Peeping  through  a  crack  of  the  door,  I  was  most 
amazed  to  note  .that  the  train  was  "making'*  less  than 
ten  miles  an  hour.  Too,  I  saw  that  one  measly 
wire  slovenly  strung  on  miserable  looking  telepraph 
poles  had,  somehow,  taken  the  place  of  the  fifty  cleanly 
strung  wires  which,  suspended  from  the  six  cross-arms 
of  stately  poles,  had  cared  for  the  transcontinental 
telegraph  service.  In  dismay  I  called  to  Jack  London 
to  come  and  help  me  unravel  the  riddle.  We  cleared 
up  the  mystery  at  the  first  milepost  we  passed.  The 
directions  we  saw  painted  on  the  post  explained  that 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  119 

we  had  strayed  from  our  route  of  roving.  We  had 
missed  connecting  with  the  Central  Pacific  and  were 
now  traveling  over  the  Rio  Grande  Western,  now 
the  Southern  Pacific  and  Denver  &  Rio  Grande,  res- 
pectively. 

To  make  a  bad  blunder  still  worse,  we  had  been 
dragged  deep  down  onto  the  Marysvale  tap  of  the 
Rio  Grande.  The  milepost  also  told  that  the  next 
stop  was  Marysvale,  the  terminal  of  the  "jerk"  line. 

To  vastly  increase  our  tribulations,  on  arrival  at 
Marysvale  we  were  to  discover  that  only  one  train 
ran  over  the  branch  railroad.  This  train  was  a  mixed 
one,  meaning  one  caring  for  both  freight  and  passenger 
traffic.  Furthermore,  it  ran  on  alternating  days  over 
the  road,  one  day  arriving  from  and  the  following  day 
leaving  for  Thistle,  the   junction   with  the   main   line. 

A  rare  event  was  the  freight  train  that  had 
deposited  us  at  the  end  of  the  tap  line.  Sometimes 
many  months  intervened  ere  sufficient  freight  cars  had 
accumulated  at  Ogden,  Salt  Lake  City  and  Thistle  to 
permit  the  despatching  of  an  "extra"  run. 

When  by  diligent  inquiries  we  had  ascertained 
all  these  items,  we  set  up  a  grand  howl.  We  weren't 
a  bit  backward  in  expressing  our  personal  opinion  of 
jerk  lines  in  general  and  the  one  we  had  inadvertently 
strayed  on,  in  particular.  It  so  happened  that  a -brake- 
man  of  the  mixed  train  —  which  was  shunting  cars  and 
coaches  at  the  station  —  carefully  took  stock  of  our 
vehement  denunciations  of  his  '^bread  aaid  butter"  line. 

It  was  this  trainman  wko  routed  us  from  the  caily 
open  one  of  three  box  oars  which  the  mixed  train  took 
away  on  its  departure  from  Marysvale.  We  vainly 
tried  to  square  our  account  with  the  shack  and  while 
we   argued   with   him,   the    conductor   got   hip   to   our 


120  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

doings.  All  this  held  our  undivided  attention  and 
while  we  were  working  with  the  crew  of  this  train, 
we  allowed  the  extra  freight  to  depart  without  us  from 
Marysvale.  Furthermore,  ere  we  were  done  telling 
the  railroaders  of  the  mixed  run  what  we  thought  of 
them,  they  had  promised  that  we  should  be  the  first 
individuals  who  succeeded  in  traveling  without  the 
purchase  of  tickets  back  to  Thistle  Junction  or  any 
portion  of  this  mileage.  In  short,  the  quarrel  culmin- 
ated in  our  hiking  the  whole  distance  of  one  hundred 
and  thirty-two  miles,  for  though  we  made  any  number 
of  tries  to  hook  en  route  a  ride  by  rail  we  miserably 
failed  in  all  our  schemes  to  best  the  wrathy  crew  of  the 
Rio  Grande. 

Originally  the  country  we  traversed  to  Thistle  had 
been  a  desert  of  the  very  worst  rating.  But  thanks 
to  the  Mormons,  always  industrious  and  scientific 
agriculturists,  the  howling  desolation  became  transform 
ed  into  a  worthy  counterpart  of  the  proverbial  Garden 
of    Eden. 

Both  Jack  London  and  I  had  panhandled 
through  countrysides  as  thickly  settled  and  no 
less  prosperous  by  intensified  farming  than  was  the 
Marysvale  section  —  and  all  other  districts  settled  by 
the  Mormons,  for  that  matter.  But  nowhere  had  either 
of  us  met  with  a  more  cordial  reception  than  the  one 
we  received   everywhere   in  Mormonland. 

In  all  the  world  there  were  no  people  more  char- 
itablly  inclined  than  were  the  Jews  an^i  the  Mormons 
with  whom  we  were  thrown  in  contact  during  our 
world-wide  travels.  That  is,  reclconing  the  practice 
of  practical  charity  in  conformity  with  the  numerical 
strength    of   the    worshippers    affiliated    with    each    of 


From  Cocst  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  \2X 

the  various  religious  denominations  abroad  on  the 
American  continent. 

The  Mormons  were  the  more  noteworthy  in  that 
their  charity  towards  their  fellow-beings  was  sustained 
by  a  most  sublime  belief.  Their  religion  taught  that 
some  day  the  archangel  of  God,  his  identity  disguised 
in  garments  typifying  abject  poverty,  would  come  to 
knock  for  admission  at  the  entrance  of  the  home  of 
every  devotee  of  Mormonism.  On  account  of  the 
grandly  divine  teaching,  a  hobo  needed  but  to  allow 
his  needs  to  become  known  in  the  land  of  the  Mormons 
to  receive   a  prompt  response  to   his  appeal. 

Faring  like  kings  we  returned  through  the  heart 
of  Utah  to  Thistle.  There  we  ran  across  a  seasoned 
hobo  campaigner.  We  visited  with  him  and  recounted 
in  the  course  of  a  conversation  which  ensued,  the  gifts 
of  most  wonderful  "eatings"  which  had  rewarded  our 
simplest  efforts  among  the  Saints  of  the  Latter  Day. 
He  it  was  who  informed  us  that  among  the  hoboes  all 
the  country  settled  by  the  Mormons  was  termed  the 
"Land  of  Manna"  and  that  the  railroads  passing  through 
there  were  nicknamed  "Milk  &  Honey  Routes." 

(There  were  other  railroads  or  parts  of  them  which 
had  gained  most  appropriate  nicknames  at  the 
hand  of  the  hoboes.  That  portion  of  the  Norfolk  & 
Western  which  in  south-eastern  Ohio  runs  from  Ports- 
mouth to  Circleville  was  dubbed  the  "Apple  Butter 
Route."  Not  so  many  years  ago,  I  chanced  to  stray 
over  this  trackage  which  was  rated  as  one  of  the  most 
hobo-hostile  bits  of  railroads.  I  was  continually  chased 
off  the  cars  by  the  shacks  and  routed  from  the 
right  of  way  by  section  hands  and  railroad  police.  For 
this  simple  reason  I  was  given  every  opportunity  to 
verify  the  weakness  of  the  housekeepers   thereabouts 


122  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

to  regale  tramps  calling  at  their  homes  with  thin 
slices  of  bread  thickly  spread  with  juicy  apple  butter. 
So  persistently  was  I  fed  with  the  sticky  apple  mar- 
madade  that  even  now,  when  I  am  so  happily  married, 
no  apple  butter  is  allowed  a  place  on  our  dinner  table. 

The  Trenton-Harrisburg  short  cut  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania System  for  sufficient  reason  is  nicknamed 
the  ''Doughnut  Lane."  The  Boston  &  Albany  is  the 
"Sacred  Tract  Road."  'Jhe  thrifty  New  Englanders 
living  on  this  railroad,  aware  of  the  weakness  of  the 
hoboes  for  John  Barleycorn,  had  acquired  the  most 
commendable  habit  of  presenting  religious  and  tem- 
perance tracts  to  tramps  pestering  for  victuals.  The 
"Bitter  Biscuit  Line"  is  the  nickname  of  the  Piedmont 
divisions  of  the  Southern  Railway.  This  because  the 
handouts  passed  out  to  beggars  consisted  in  the  main 
of  ancient  dough  biscuits  which  had  become  tart  by 
reason  of  the  poisonous  alum  powder  used  in  their 
baking.  The  "Spud  Drag"  is  the  Bangor  &  Aroostook, 
one  of  the  finest  bits  of  railways,  by  way  of  mention. 
Along  this  line  immense  quantities  of  the  tubers  were 
marketed  annually.  Naturally,  potatoes  were  the  prin- 
cipal contents  of  every  handout  donated  by  the  Maine 
farmers.  The  Oregon  &  California  of  the  famous 
Harriman  System  is  the  "Snaky  Route"  of  the  hoboes 
because  from  Sacramento  to  Portland,  a  grandly  scenic 
mountain  trip  of  eight  hundred  miles,  there  is  scarcely 
a  half  mile  of  straight  track.) 

At  Salt  Lake  City  we  battered  the  residence  of 
Joseph  Smith.  We  worked  the  trick  in  company,  that 
is,  we  two  went  the  act  together.  It  so  chanced  that 
the  prophet  of  the  Mormons  was  at  home.  He  visited 
with  us  in  the  yard  where  we  split  wood  to  earn  our 
dinners.     Previous  to  our  meeting  with  this  man,  we 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  123 

had  ofttimes  laughed  at  the  caricatures  of  him  and 
of  the  religious  teachings  of  the  sect  of  which  he  was 
the  leader.  He  neither  looked  a  bit  like  the  scanditlous 
drawings  nor  remotely  capable  of  committing  even  a 
fraction  of  the  misdeeds  laid  at  his  door  by  apostates 
from  Mormonism  and  the  envious  of  humanity  —  they 
with  an  intellect  so  gnarled  that  it  allows  them  to 
hold  nothing  inviolable,  least  of  all  the  good  name  and 
the  religious  belief  of  their  fellow-men. 

Quite  to  the  contrary,  Joseph  Smith  was  a  most 
unassuming  sort  of  a  gentleman.  For  more  than  an 
hour  he  was  not  above  personally  helping  us  along 
with  our  task.  Ere  we  went  from  his  home,  the  prophet 
of  the  Mormons  bade  us  a  hearty  farewell  and  we 
were  presented  with  a  dollar.  At  that,  he  had  lots 
more  cares  than  ordinarily  were  the  burden  of  the 
everyday  mortal.  Not  only  had  he  to  look  after  the 
welfare  of  a  nation  of  people  but  also  four  wives  and 
a  most  respectably  sized  family  of  children.  We  met 
some  of  the  younger  Smiths  and  we  had  to  admit  that 
we  never  seen  a  more  likely  set  of  healthy  and 
vivacious   youngsters. 

Returning  to  the  railroad  center  of  Ogden,  we 
skirted  the  Great  Salt  Lake  and  then  crossed  the 
American  Sahara  in  which  Winnemucca  was  set  like 
an  enchanted  oasis.  We  were  ditched  many  times 
en  route  and  suffered  many  of  the  other  tribulations 
to  which  hobodom  exclusively  is  heir  before  we  reached 
the  city  of  Reno  whence  it  was  but  a  step  to  California, 
the  land  of  plenty. 

At  Reno  every  hobo,  ranging  from  the  aristocratic 
"comet''  down  to  the  lowliest  of  low  "grease  balls," 
registered  his  moniker.  Eastbound  tramps  made  here 
their  final  preparations  for  the  traverse  of  the  immense 


124  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

desolation  which  practically  stretched  from  here  to 
Julesburg,  Colorado.  Westbound  bummers  lingered  to 
"feed  up"  after  finishing  the  starvation  trip  of  twelve 
hundred  dreary  miles. 

At  Reno  were  abroad  other  transients  who  left 
their  trade-marks.  But  unlike  the  tramp  fry  who 
registered  on  station  structures,  cattle  pens,  water 
tanks  and  divers  available  spots,  the  other  intruders 
placed  their  signatures  in  the  registers  of  hotels  and 
boarding  houses  where  expense  was  a  secondary  con- 
sideration. Unlike  the  treatment  meted  out  to  the 
wandering  tribe  of  trampdom,  whom  the  Reno  police 
showed  no  mercy,  the  other  visitors-^jwere  sycophantly 
kow-towed  to  by  the  minions  of  the  law.  And  all  this 
difference  because  the  hoboes  were  sponging  a  living 
at  the  expense  of  the  Renoites  who,  in  their  turn, 
were  trimming  to  a  fare-ye-well  the  other  folks,  they 
who  were  in  town  to  throw  aside  the  matrimonial 
yoke. 

A  telling  majority  of  the  seekers  for  divorce  were 
women.  Back  home  the  grounds  they  had  to  advance 
for  an  application  of  separation  from  their  life's  mate 
either  was  too  scandalous  for  an  airing  in  a  public  court 
or  would  not  stand  the  test  of  the  local  laws.  A  few 
months  of  legal  residence  was  all  the  state  of  Nevada 
required  to  grease  the  slide  into  single-blessedness  and, 
at  the  same  time,  the  pocket-books  of  the  lawyers  and 
others  financially  interested  in  the  flourishing  of  the 
divorce   enterprise. 

A  native  son  of  Reno  told  us  some  interesting 
items.  He  had  it  that  some  of  the  regular  patrons 
of  the  Nevadan  courts,  had  engaged  their  rooms  by 
the  year.  Thus  they  avoided  the  annoyance  of  hunting 
new    quarters    every    time    they    arrived    to    secure    a 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


125 


"Reno"  separation  from  their  latest  husband  (?)  whom 
they  had  divorced  of  his  cash. 

There  was  one  outstanding  feature  which  most 
impressed  Jack  London  and  I  while  we  were  sight- 
seeing in  town.  This  was  the  unusual  number  of  lap 
dogs  and  other  nasty  creatures  taken  out  for  an  airing 
by  members  o£  the  Reno  divorce  colony  or  their  maids. 
Precious  few  of  the  women,  all  of  whom  were  attired 
in  the  most  expensive  creations  of  Parisian  fashion, 
were  encumbered  with  babies.  Ladies  who  were 
mothers  were  kept  too  busy  caring  for  their  little  tots 
and  making  life  worth  living  for  their  husbands,  to 
gayly  galivant  to  Reno  there  to  patronize  the  home- 
breaking  industry. 

In  fine,  one  must  have  studied  at  close  range  the 
divorce  mill  of  Nevada  in  the  days  when  this  shame 
was  grinding  the  fastest  to  truly  understand  the  depths 
of  depravity  to  which  humanity  will  descend. 


126  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

OUR  SIXTEENTH  ADVENTURE 

"The  Parting  of  the  Ways." 


FROM  Reno  we  rambled  to  Truckee,  the  first  stop 
within  the  boundary  of  the  state  of  California  the 
stately  portals  of  which  were  the  eternal  snow  cov- 
ered peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  It  was  so  miserably 
cold  at  that  season  of  the  year  that  we  decided  the  risk 
to  be  too  great  to  hobo  trains  hanging  on  to  the  out- 
side of  the  cars.  There  was  another  ample  reason  for 
our    caution. 

At  the  apex  of  the  mountain  pass  and  some  twelve 
hundred  feet  above  Truckee  there  was  a  long  tunnel. 
With  two  and  three  and  even  more  of  the  heaviest 
kind  of  mountain  climbing  engines  necessary  to  drag 
an  average  train  through  this  long  bore,  it  was  a 
miracle  that  not  more  hoboes  were  annually  either 
suffocated  by  the  gases  or,  losing  consciousness,  let 
go  of  their  hold  to  be  cast  to  a  swift  death  in  the 
darkness. 

For  the  twofold  reason  set  forth,  we  endeavored 
to  find  an  empty  box  car  or  one  left  unsealed  so  we 
could  stay  within  doors  and  thus  in  safety  make  the 
dangerous  passage  of  the  High  Sierras.  But  the 
shacks  of  the  Southern  Pacific  stopped  our  exit  from 
Truckee.  So  fierce  they  were  and  so  thoroughly  "hobo 
hostile"  that  ere  any  westbound  train  quit  the  yard, 
all  the  cars  were  carefully  searched  for  hidden  trespass- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  127 

ers.  Few  of  the  hoboes  ever  escaped  this  search. 
Those  who  managed  this  trick  or  swung  aboard  the 
cars  while  the  train  was  leaving  town,  were  fired  from 
off  their  hiding  places  while  the  train  slowly  crawled 
up  the  steep  railroad  grade  which  for  fourteen  miles 
and  in  full  view  of  the  inhabitants  of  Truckee  snaked 
upward  on  the  mountain  side. 

A  solid  week  we  had  wasted  while  trying  by  every 
means  to  negotiate  an  indoor  passage  of  the  tunnels, 
the  snow  sheds  and  the  arctic  granite  fastnesses  which 
comprised  the  next  forty  miles  beyond  Truckee.  Soon 
we  were  to  discover  we  could  not  continue  to  "hold 
down"  the  small  community  where,  at  that,  at  all  times 
hoboes  galore  were  on  hand  who  were  brought  to  and 
then  dumped  and  indefinitely  detained  in  town  by  the 
hostile  railroaders. 

Finally,  in  desperation,  with  starvation  facing  us, 
we  decided  on  tackling  the  California  Mail,  a  fast 
train  which  at  midnight  departed  from  Truckee  depot. 
We  hoped  to  reduce  our  danger  to  a  minimum  by  the 
swift  passage  we  were  assured  aboard  the  passenger 
train.  When  the  Mail  pulled  up  in  front  of  the  station, 
we  found  that  our  plans  were  favored  by  the  circum- 
stance that  the  train  that  night  was  hauling  a  "private 
car."  We  were  aware  of  the  regulation  which  forbade 
trainmen  to  enter  a  car  of  this  class  which  generally 
was  the  expensive  privilege  of  the  very  wealthy. 

Knowing  ourselves  secure  against  molestation  by 
the  crew  while  the  train  was  in  transit,  we  boldly 
climbed  aboard  the  observation  platform  which  formed 
the  rear  end  of  the  departing  train.  The  occupants 
of  the  special  coach  had  retired  for  the  night.  This 
we  readily  ascertained  when  the  shades,  which  were 
drawn   over  the   large   plate   glass   windows   that   led 


128  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 

to  the  platform,  Hopped  back  and  forth  whenever  the 
Mail  swung  around  a  mountain  curve.  Peeping  indoors 
through  the  windo^vs,  v/e  looked  into  a  lamplit  sitting 
room  which  was  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  interior 
by  a  swinging-  door. 

Everything  went  famously  well  until  the  train  dove 
into  the  portal  of  the  long  tunnel  at  the  apex  of  the 
pass.  There  the  mountain  bore,  which  enveloped  the 
cars  like  a  i'v^ht  fitting  glove,  gave  the  noxious  gases 
emitted  by  the  engines  every  chance  to  get  in  their 
work.  We  began  to  cough  and  to  choke  and  then  to 
reel.  To  steady  myself,  I  groped  in  the  darkness 
for  a  handhold  to  keep  myself  from  dropping  over 
the  railing  of  the  platform.  Luckily,  I  caught  hold 
of  the  knob  of  the  door  leadincf  from  the  observation 
platform  into  the  private  car.  Some  one  had  neglected 
to  properly  fasten  the  door  for  the  night  for  when, 
by  chance,  I  tried  the  knob  the  door  yielded  to 
pressure. 

Whispering  to  Jack  London  for  him  to  exercise 
caution,  we  stealthily  slipped  into  the  sitting  room 
of  the  car  and  shut  the  door  behind  us.  Then  we 
sank  into  chairs  which  stood  near  at  hand.  It  was 
some  time  ere  we  regained  our  composure  so  greatly 
had  we  suffered  from  the  effect  of  the  deadly  gases 
and  the  fearful  ordeal  we  had  passed  through.  Ere 
we  were  aware  of  the  matter,  we  did  the  natural  thing 
when  we  fell  asleep  on  the  softly  upholstered  chairs. 

"Who  done  tole  yuh  to  make  yuh-selves  at  home  in 
dis  yere  priv'te  cah,  white  folks?"  bellowed  the  colored 
porter  of  the  car  when  in  the  morning  he  discovered 
our  unbidden  presence. 

Matters  were  satisfactorily  explained  to  the  dusky 
servant.     But  he  would  not  hear  of  our  riding  further. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


129 


The  porter  was  most  amazed  to  find  two  "extra"  passenger*. 


130  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

not  even  out  on  the  observation  platform  until  "his 
folks"  had  quit  their  berths.  He  insisted  that  we 
leave  the  train  at  the  first  stop.  This  was  the  city  of 
Auburn.  Here  and  five  miles  farther  on  at  Newcastle, 
to  where  we  walked,  we  feasted  on  figs  and  other 
tropical  fruits  which  we  gathered  from  the  trees  and 
plants.  This  proved  a  rare  treat  following  the  hard 
fare  which  was  ours  since  we  quit  the  Land  of  Manna. 

We  hoboed  to  Sacramento,  the  capital  of  California. 
Having  taken  in  the  sights  to  be  seen  in  this  ancient 
city,  we  returned  to  the  freight  yard  to  railroad  the 
last  ninety  miles  yet  remaining  of  our  transcontinental 
roughing  trip.  While  we  waited  for  a  train  to  depart 
at  a  bridge  which  at  the  west  end  of  the  yard  spanned 
the  Sacramento  River,  we  espied  some  row  boats  which 
their  careless  owners  had  tied  to  the  trunks  of  trees 
which  grew  on  the  bank  of  the  navigable  stream. 

In  his  day  Jack  London  had  been  a  sailor.  On 
him  the  vista  of  the  boats  acted  like  a  charm.  He 
could  not  resist  the  call  of  the  water  for,  there  and 
then,  .he  proposed  that  we  appropriate  one  of  the 
row  boats  and  then  travel  by  river  and  bay  to  Oakland, 
his  home  city.  I  tried  my  level-best  to  dissuade  him 
from  this  notion  which  meant  reaching  our  destination 
by  a  route  so  circuitous  that  it  was  more  than  do\ible 
the  mileage  of  the  trip  by  rail.  But  he  would  brook 
no  refusal.  And  for  the  sake  of  preserving  our  partner- 
ship, I  consented  to  share  the  adventure. 

Loaded  down  with  provisions  we  had  collected  in 
the  meanwhile,  at  midnight  we  returned  to  the  river 
bank.  There  we  selected  and  then  released  the  most 
likely  one  of  the  row  boats.  Lacking  oars  wherewith 
to  paddle  the  boat  down  the  swiftly  flowing  stream, 
wc  made  use  of  staves  which  we  had  ripped  from  a  dis- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London,  131 

carded  wine  barrel.  At  dawn  we  steered  into  a  slough 
where  we  capsized  the  craft.  We  camped  in  a  jungle 
but  a  short  distance  from  where  we  had  left  the  keel 
of  the  boat  awash  with  the  bosom  of  the  river. 

After  dusk  we  righted  the  boat,  bailed  it  and  re- 
embarked  on  a  continuance  of  our  journey.  While 
we  were  hugely  interested  in  our  exploit  and  kept  on 
a  sharp  lookout  for  steamboats  which  plied  the  Sac- 
ramento, mosquitoes  took  a  mighty  mean  advantage  of 
us.  With  our  blood  we  furnished  them  meals  for 
which  they  settled  in  more  than  full  by  thoroughly 
inoculating  our  circulatory  systems  with  the  virus  of 
dread  malaria.  The  third  day  out  we  had  become  so 
delirious  with  the  ague  that  we  had  to  abandon  the 
hobo  water  trip.  After  setting  the  boat  adrift,  we 
struck  out  across  the  country.  From  the  bend  of  the 
Sacramento  it  was  forty  miles  before  we  reached  the 
nearest  railroad  station  where,  more  dead  than  alive, 
we  crawled  aboard  a  freight  train  and  came  on  to 
Oakland. 

At  the  residence  of  the  Londons  I  was  tendered  a 
most  whole-souled  reception.  In  the  belief  that  our 
safifron-hued  complexions  and  other  visible  ravages 
of  the  malarial  fever  were  telltales  of  semi-starvation, 
motherly  Mrs.  London  prepared  a  sumptuous  banquet. 
But  we  were  unable  to  do  justice  to  the  many  good 
things  she  had  dished  up  and  a  doctor  was  consulted. 
He  promptly  ordered  us  put  to  bed.  There  being  no 
suitable  provision  at  the  house  to  care  for  more  than 
one  sick  person,  I  took  temporary  leave  of  Jack  Lon- 
don and  his  folks. 

Then  I  went  to  hunt  an  asylum  for  myself.  But 
a  penniless  stranger  and  more  especially  a  fellow  who, 
so  plainly  as  I  did,  displayed  the  earmarks  of  vagrancy 


132  From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 

was  not  accorded  admittance  at  hospitals  and  other 
institutions  where  I  piteously  pleaded  to  be  nursed 
back  to  health  and  strength  —  to  follow  the  Road. 
Failing  in  my  errand  at  Oakland,  I  turned  to  San 
Francisco  to  find  free  shelter  and  medical  treatment 
during  my  siege  of  sickness.  To  reach  the  latter  city 
I  had  to  cross  the  bay  of  like  name.  I  slipped  aboard 
a  ferryboat  at  the  moment  it  left  Oakland  Pier.  But 
a  watchman  in  the  employ  of  the  boat  had  espied  my 
act  As  I  could  not  produce  a  ticket  or  settle  for  my 
transportation,  on  landing  at  San  Francisco  he  placed 
me  in  charge  of  a  John  Law.  The  officer  had  me 
taken  by  patrol  to  police  headquarters.  Thence  I  was 
dragged  before  a  magistrate  who  neither  permitted 
my  humble  plea  of  sickness  nor  other  excuses  to  pre- 
vail but  off-handedly  settled  my  latest  transgression 
of  the   law. 

Tramps  did  not  consider  a  transcontinental  hobo 
jaunt  as  formally  accomplished  unless  the  roamer  who 
desired  the  right  of  this  distinction  had  personally 
gazed  upon  the  roaring  surf  of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  It 
was  several  months  from  my  arrival  in  the  city  to  the 
day  when   I   fulfilled  this   obligation. 

Then  I  resolved  to  find  Jack  London  if  such  a 
meeting  could  be  arranged,  wherever  his  whereabouts. 
Under  a  ruling  of  the  code  of  the  hoboes,  no  tramp- 
partnership  was  considered  as  rightly  dissolved  unkss 
l^  mutual  understanding  or  the  death  of  one  of  the 
priucapols  of  the  agreement. 

Over  in  Oakland,  I  was  advised  by  Mrs.  London, 
thsLt  after  battling  three  months  ere  he  conquered  the 
malaria,  her  son  had  accepted  employment  with  an 
up-state  laundry.  In  response  to  my  urgent  inquiries, 
the  brave  mother  gave  me  to  understand  that  her  re- 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London.  133 

formed  wayward  was  quite  content  to  remain  with  his 
task  the  address  of  which  she  curtly  refused  to  divulge. 

Even  while  good  Mrs.  London  thus  sounded  the 
death  knell  of  our  contemplated  hobo  cruise  around 
the  world,  I  realized  that  the  seemingly  impossible  was 
achieved.  As  ever,  so  in  this  instance,  it  had  required 
a  harsh  remedy  to  counteract  the  inroads  of  a  malig- 
nant malady.  In  Jack  London's  case  it  took  an  over- 
dose of  malaria  to  down  the  hobo  fever  which  so 
virulently  scourged  him. 

When  I  had  bidden  farewell  to  Mrs.  London,  the 
lady  expressed  a  fervent  wish  that  I,  too,  would  soon 
mend  my  ways.  While  I  walked  along  the  street  this 
well-meant  advice  provided  food  for  poignant  thought. 
Long  before  this  day  I  had  indulged  in  calculations 
dealing  with  items  intimately  pertaining  to  the  Road. 
The  figuring  I  had  done  was  of  the  statistical  sort, 
a  matter-of-fact  one  that  stopped  errors  and  slipping 
in  of  deceptions.  The  especial  subject  of  my  study 
was  the  recent  hobo  trip.  The  figures  which  resulted 
heavily  brought  home  the  truth  that  as  an  investment 
of  human  lifetime,  the  Road  was  the  most  thankless 
of  propositions.  Soley  counting  the  many  weeks  we 
had  wasted  while  we  roughed  it  overland,  we  could 
have  done  a  thousandfold  better  had  we  accepted 
honorable  employment  in  New  York  City.  There  we 
could  readily  put  aside  weekly  a  portion  of  our  earn- 
ings and  thus  in  short  order  have  saved  the  where- 
withal for  the  purchase  of  firstclass  passage  to 
California  or  a-ny  other  points  on  the  globe,  for  that 
matter.  In  four  days  of  traveling  like  gentlemen 
aboard  of  the  varnished  cars,  we  would  have  avoided 
all  the  incredible  risks  every  ride  thief  continually 
courted. 


134 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


While  yet  I  was  debating  with  myself  whether 
to  follow  the  dictates  of  commonsense  or  the  yearning 
which  directed  me  back  to  the  crooked  path,  in  the 
nearby  terminal  of  the  Southern  Pacific  a  locomotive 
driver  whistled  the  signal  which  announced  the  depar- 
ture of  a  freight  train.  Alv/ays  in  the  past  this  tooted 
cajl  was  to  me  the  clarion  of  the  Road.  As  on  other 
days  so  on  this  day  the  nerve-racking  blasts  acted  as 
an  invitation  to  leave  the  locality  for  other  fields. 
Another  moment  of  indecision  —  then  away  through 
the  streets  of  Oakland  I  raced  to  board  the  outgoing 
train.  I  arrived  in  time  to  swing  myself  beneath  a 
freight  car.  There  lying  stretched  full  length  across 
the  gunnels  I  left  Oakland. 

At  Roseville  Junction  where  the  "Snaky  Route" 
of  the  hoboes  forked  from  the  main  line  of  the  Southern 
Pacific,  I  turned  northward.  The  grand  Puget  Sound 
country  called  me.  There  I  would  arrive  in  due 
time  —  unless  a  last  and  fatal  slip  sent  me  hoboing 
onward  in  the  Great  Beyond  through  all  eternity. 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London. 


135 


Letter  written  aboard  the  "Snark 


136 


From  Coast  to  Coast  with  Jack  London, 


AUTHOR'S    NOTE 


THE  Wanderlust  which  was  the  lifelong  bane  of 
Jack  London  would  not  allow  him  to  remain  at 
rest.  Twelve  years  later  he  made  another,  also 
futile  attempt  to  circle  the  globe  without  actually  invest- 
ing in  regular  tickets. ,  He,  his  good  wife  and  our  jovial 
friend,  Mr.  Martin  Johnson  of  Independence,  Kansas, 
embarked  on  the  "Snark,"  a  forty-five  foot  sailing  boat. 
They  were  unable  to  turn  the  coveted  trick.  After 
having  strayed  halfway  around  the  world  to  Sidney, 
N.S.W.;  Australia,  two  years  later,  ill  health  contracted 
in  the  South  Seas  by  the  participants  compelled  an 
abandonment  of  an  undertaking  which  stands  without 
compeer  in  the  annals  of  red-blooded  adventure. 


A  List  of  the  Books  on  Tramp  Life 

WRITTEN   ,^^  ^^"r^il.^.  '^^^  TRAMP 
BY      '  At XrJN^SX^   AUTHOR 


THE  FIRST  BOOK 
UFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  A-No.  1 


THE  SECOND  BOOK 
HOBO-CAM  P-FIRE-TALES 


THE  THIRD  BOOK 
THE  CURSE  OF  TRAMP  LIFE 


THE  FOURTH  BOOK 
THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  TRAMP 


THE  FIFTH  BOOK 
THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  FEMALE  TRAMP 


THE  SIXTH  BOOK 
THE  WAYS  OF  THE  HOBO 


THE  SEVENTH  BOOK 
THE  SNARE  OF  THE  ROAD 


THE  EIGHTH  BOOK 
FROM  COAST  TO  COAST  WITH  JACK  LONDON 


THE  NINTH  BOOK 
THE  MOTHER  OF  THE  HOBOES 


THE  TENTH  BOOK 
THE  WIFE  I  WON 


THE  ELEVENTH  BOOK 
TRAVELING  WITH  TRAMPS 


THE   TWELFTH   BOOK 
HERE  AND  THERE  WITH  ANo.  1 


The  Author  has  carefully  avoided  the  least  mention  of  uny- 
thing  that  would  be  unfit  reading  for  ladies  or  children. 

A    complete   set    of   these    moral    and    entertaining    books 
should  be  in  every  home. 


1 

NO.  8 


9^ 


I 


